The Four
by purrina57
Summary: "Make it stop!" she screams, the pictures in her mind getting more vivid. Pictures of evil things, monsters that lurk in the dark, usually in between the pages of horror novels, but are real—they're there. They're here. They're real, and they want out... Clary's in a mental hospital, tortured and trapped in her own mind. Rated M for violence and language. A little dark.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hi! This is just kind of something that was on my mind. I'm really not sure how it's going to turn out. I'm definitely not even going to be updating this one a lot because I'm in the process of writing it, rather than waiting until I'm completely done and THEN publishing it. **

**It's going to be a scary story, so if that's not your thing, then don't read this. It's not going to be super terrifying or anything, but definitely dark. At least, I hope it comes off as dark. **

**It's going to have a lot of different monsters in it, and I can't tell you everything right now because I'm not even sure about everything but I wanted to mention it was a supernatural story. **

**It's rated M for violence and language.**

**Oh, and Jace is evil and Clary is crazy.**

**Or IS she?**

**Dun, dun, dun...**

**Read on please! (:**

* * *

Chapter One

"Just calm down, Clarissa," the orderly says, slow and even. Trying to give comfort.

It's not comforting, and she won't listen. She can't.

She just keeps thrashing and crying.

"Trapped," she says as her eyes close tightly, flashes of things she's never seen playing across her eyelids like a fragmented movie. "They're trapped—sad, burning, evil, so much darkness. Darkness!" she screams, kicking out and clawing wildly.

"We're going to have to sedate her," the orderly says with a sigh.

The other nods, producing a diabolical looking syringe as the mayhem of the institution ensues around them, people crying, screaming, laughing—and everything in between—all because _she_ started crying herself.

"Hold her arm steady," the needle-wielding orderly says to the other.

The girl's head tips back, her back arching and her eyes rolling up to just show whites as she shudders a few times. Her arms and legs jerk at odd cadences, unpredictable and wrong. She starts slamming her head back into the floor, and the orderlies struggle to control her, even though she is tiny in comparison to their hulking frames.

"Make it stop!" she screams, the pictures in her mind getting more vivid. Pictures of evil things, monsters that lurk in the dark, usually in between the pages of horror novels, but are real—they're there. They're here. They're real.

Memories that are not her own dance in her confused and crowded mind, making her head split. She wishes her skull would open so that the darkness could wash out and leave her blissfully numb, without anything—either good or bad. She'd be free.

She wants freedom.

And so do they. They want to get out.

"Help me!" she screams as the whispers in her mind begin, evil voices begging and pleading, sometimes yelling. It's too much.

It's too much until she feels a prick in her arm, and then, she stops moving. The orderly's think they have put her to sleep—helped her, even.

But the don't know that she's still awake. She can never go to sleep, not until it's done. All they've done is trapped her in her own personal hell, and all she can do is scream on the inside and pray someone hears her.

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Clarissa?" Dr. Carmen asks.

I sit carefully on the edge of huge leather chair, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm fine," I say softly. My eyes drift over to the window in her office. It's the first time in a few days that I've seen the outside. The sky is gray and the grounds are a vibrant green, a product of all the rain we'd had this summer.

I love the rain, the feeling of cool water running down my skin as it eases the thick Georgia heat. It's the best feeling in the world, to dance in the storm as it roars around you. I feel at peace when I'm with nature.

"Clarissa?"

I glance back over to find Dr. Carmen smiling softly. I know she's been speaking to me, and I've gotten lost in my own head. It happens a lot now. Sometimes it happens, and I don't even realize it, I don't even remember what's happened.

Which is why I'm here now—because I had another episode.

"I'm sorry," I say.

Dr. Carmen has a sweet, soft face. She's not very pretty. Her ears are too big, and her skin is a little too freckled. Her frizzy red hair is pretty, though, and when she smiles really big, it squints her eyes up and shows her laugh lines. I like her. She reminds me of someone, though I can't remember whom.

"Don't be sorry, sweetie," Dr. Carmen soothes; looking down at the papers she has spread over her wooden desk. "You're here today because of what happened Friday. Do you remember what happened?"

I shake my head.

"Did they tell you anything?" Dr. Carmen inquires, looking up at me and lacing her fingers together.

I nod quietly and look down at my plain white scrubs. I pick at the hem of my shirt, hating the color and everything about them. They aren't my style, at all. I like bright colors. Or…at least I used to. I thought I did.

I can't remember sometimes.

"They say I started screaming and convulsing," I whisper down at my hands. "They had to sedate me."

"What's the last thing you remember that day, Clarissa? Let's see if we can find a trigger for these episodes."

I inhale deeply and think back to that day. The memory is slightly off because sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing reality from my dreams. My days here have all blurred together, until it's difficult to pick out certain days.

But I try my best, and I soon remember sitting in the common room with the other patients. I had been sitting in the corner with Aline and Simon. Simon had been twitching and rambling and laughing like usual. Aline had been saying strange things, also a common occurrence. That day she'd been very fascinated by aliens. And that had prompted Simon into a long rant about how the aliens built the pyramids and they'd come back for the smartest humans and save them from the impending apocalypse.

Apocalypse.

The word sends a fresh shiver down my spine as it did then, a few days ago. I repeat it, under my breath, three times. Each time, I feel a little sense of foreboding ease into my stomach.

Something bad will happen.

When?

Soon.

Why?

It's because they want out.

Who are they?

They're evil.

"Clarissa?"

I'm snapped out of my thoughts at the gentle prodding of Dr. Carmen. When I look up at her, I'm relieved to find I'm in her soothing office, with the window letting in so much natural light.

I'm safe. I'm okay.

There's no such thing as monsters.

"Who is evil?" Dr. Carmen questions.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"You were talking to yourself again," she says calmly, as if I'm not strange, as if I'm not crazy, as if my own family hasn't thrown me in here because I was becoming dangerous. This is why Dr. Carmen is so good at her job, I think, because she doesn't see craziness. She only sees sickness that needs to be cured.

_You can't be cured_, a voice whispers into my head, a voice that isn't mine.

I ignore it.

"You said they're evil," Dr. Carmen goes on, frowning. "You said 'they want out.' Who wants out? Who's evil?"

I start rocking back and forth before I realize it, and I gnaw on my bottom lip. "Can't tell you."

"Why?" Dr. Carmen's intent, leaning forwards slightly, a curious light in her eyes as if she expects me to suddenly make a break through.

"Because I don't know," I lie. Some things I keep to myself, even though I know I shouldn't. If I'm not honest—completely honest—with Dr. Carmen, I won't even get better. That's what everyone says. But some things I can't tell her. Some things I can't tell her because I truly don't know, some things I can't tell her because it's dangerous—dangerous for everyone.

Dr. Carmen nods and purses her lips for a moment. "All right. That's okay, Clarissa. Why don't we go back to the start of what seemed to trigger you Friday? You kept repeating the word apocalypse over and over when I first asked you about what had happened Friday. That seems to be a fairly common theme in your past episodes—some mention of doom or the world ending. Are you religious?

I nod once. "Yes."

"Are you afraid of the apocalypse mentioned in the Bible?" Dr. Carmen cocks her head.

"No," I say. I debate before adding, in a near whisper, "It has nothing to do with religion, Dr. Carmen. It's more…It's supernatural." I realize now just how crazy I sound. No wonder my aunt and uncle put me here.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I am crazy. Maybe these things that I dream, these memories I have—maybe they are all part of my delusion. Crazy people don't know they're crazy, right? They don't know that what they think isn't possible.

"Supernatural." Dr. Carmen nods slowly, absorbing this. "Like monsters—vampires, maybe? They seem to be all over pop culture right at the moment."

"No, no," I say, shaking my head firmly.

"Not vampires?"

"Not the pop culture kind," I say softly, pleadingly almost—as if begging her to understand. I scoot closer to her desk. "Not the sweet kind or even the kind in the TV shows that turns out to be good eventually. I mean…evil. Pure evil. Unnatural."

It got really quiet then, and my mind went back to a blurry memory that wasn't mine—candelabras, long dresses, corsets, horses and carriages, and a boy…no, not a boy. Man. Not man, either.

Unnatural.

I shudder.

"Clarissa? What are you thinking right now?" Dr. Carmen asks me slowly.

"I'm…I'm remembering something." I press my hand to my forehead, closing my eyes tightly as the memory takes over, and it feels like I'm standing in a castle. It's cold, but I can feel the heat of the torch I carry. I'm frightened. I can smell smoke and damp. There's someone chasing me.

Something.

"Clarissa!"

I jump and open my eyes. Dr. Carmen is looking at me in concern, and I feel pain in my palms. I look down and see my fingernails have cut into my palms, almost hard enough to draw blood. I force my fingers to relax.

"Breathe, Clarissa," Dr. Carmen says in a calming way. "These memories you have—are they still in different time periods?"

I can still smell the torch's smoke in my nostrils, can still feel the tightness of my corset, so all I do is nod in response to Dr. Carmen.

"When was the one you just had?"

"I'm not sure. The 1800's, I think."

"How far back have you gone?"

"So far back that I don't really know what time period it is," I admit.

"Hm. What's the closest time period to now?"

"The sixties," I say, picking at my scrubs again. I'm not sure what this has to do with anything. I don't care enough to take the time to find out. I long ago just gave up trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Instead, I answer Dr. Carmen's questions without complaint, in the distant hope that she'll one day be able to make me normal.

"All right." Dr. Carmen gives me a warm smile. "You can go now, Clarissa. I think that's enough for today. Do you feel like going in the common room and on the grounds again?"

I nod quickly, with a small smile. It's the most exciting news I've heard all day.

Dr. Carmen laughs slightly. "Great. I think you'll be okay to get out of solitary. These things happen from time to time. Just try not to strike up a conversation that will lead to the discussion of an apocalypse." She winks.

I smile and stand. "Here, you can strike up a conversation about butterflies, and it can lead to the apocalypse. It's kind of hard to pick and chose topics for discussion."

Dr. Carmen nods. "This is true. Have a good day, sweetie."

"Thanks." I walk over to the door and pause. "You, too," I add before slipping outside. I run down the halls, quickly skirting over Magnus—who thought he was a pit-bull and would thus attack anyone that moved too suddenly—and I made my way outside, just in time for it to rain?

I stood in the middle of the shaded lawn of the plantation institute. I closed my eyes, and inhaled the smell of summer storm deeply. And for the first time all day, I feel good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So, inspiration has struck and I've written a bunch of chapters for this story last night and this morning rather than doing school work like I should be doing. Oops. Anyway, I wouldn't get too used to having often updates, though. I'm bad to get writer's block or get distracted by another story. **

**Also, I want to apologize for the horrible typos the last chapter. That's what you get when you post things in the wee hours of the morning! The tense changes and grammatical errors make me cringe, so I know they probably make at least a few of y'all cringe, too. Sorry. I'll try to do better!**

**In this chapter, you get to meet Jace, albeit briefly, but Clary doesn't know his name is Jace. OR she _does_ know his name is Jace, she just can't remember it...**

**Cue the _Twilight Zone _theme music! **

**Enjoy and review, please! (:**

* * *

Chapter Two

I stare at my hair. It used to be a vibrant, coppery color. Now, it seems dull, and my once bouncy curls seem flatter than they used to be. My large green eyes look distant even as I inspect myself in the reflection of the mirror. I'm frail looking. I look breakable.

Maybe I'm already broken.

"Pretty, pretty boy," Aline murmurs under her breath, nodding. "Boy with golden hair like an angel's, and eyes like the devil's."

It's rare I pay much attention to Aline's ramblings, but today, her words give a chill down my spine. I perk up and glance over to her. She rocks back and forth, her legs drawn up to her chest and her eyes fixed distantly on the floor. Her black hair is standing at odd angles from where she took the gardening sheers from the grounds' keeper and gave herself a haircut three days ago.

"Full moon eyes," Aline says.

"She's crazy," Simon explodes suddenly, jerking his leg up and down at a rapid pace. He's sitting across from her at our table, his hair standing out in every direction like he's gotten an electric shock. One of his eyes twitch, and he flutters his hands around. "Loony! Certifiable! _NUTZO_!"

"Not crazy," Aline defends before getting a dreamy look on her face and smiling. "I've seen him. He's very pretty. I want to take some of his hair and make a stuffed animal out of it."

Simon blinks rapidly, his whole body vibrating. "See! That's crazy! No sane person wants someone's hair for a teddy bear. I'm crazy, and I know that! But see, I'm not really crazy. It's everyone else that's crazy, yep, uh-huh, because you see, this is all some diabolical plot by the government." Simon finds no interest from Aline so he turns to me, his hands motioning wildly as he gets more and more animated. "It's so simple. You guys are just stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He punctuates each stupid with a vicious smack to his head.

An orderly glances over and warns, "Simon."

"Yep, sorry," he mutters back quickly, his eyes still on me. He's almost crawling across the table towards me. "We're all just a bunch of lab rats—didn't know that, did ya? We're all a lil' off you know, a little touched. I mean, take her for example—the old drooling lady over there. She's so doped up she doesn't know which way is up. She might not really be crazy. Or maybe she is—lunatic, stark raving mad! But we'll never know, will we? Because it's all part of the plan—the master plan. We're all lab rats, mice working their way through a maze to find the cheese—like _Flowers For Algernon_! Flowers! But there's no cheese, people! NO CHEESE!"

Simon is screaming now, and the orderlies come over, picking him up and dragging him away as he kicks and cries out, his speech turning into something so bizarre that I can't even slightly comprehend what he's trying to say.

I sigh sadly as I watch him get pulled away before I look back at Aline, who seems relatively unaffected by it all. It's rare that Simon doesn't set off a chain reaction. He gets too excited, and then Aline will, and then the whole common room becomes a circus of insanity—quite literally.

The only other person that can get the hospital in such an uproar is myself—although I never remember it when it happens.

"Who's the boy you're talking about?" I whisper to Aline.

She smiles down at her lap. "He's tall. Forever tall with smoke coming out his nose, and eyes that shine like the sun but love the moon."

My skin prickles, and I don't know why. "Where've you seen him?"

Aline looks up at me, her eyes suddenly very lucid for a moment, unhindered by the haze of drugs they have her own. "He's in the halls. He's looking for you, Clary." Then she blinks, and she's gone again.

I frown and watch as Aline gets up and drifts over to the old woman Simon mentioned earlier. Aline begins trying to braid the white puffs of hair the woman has left, and the woman continues to stare into nothingness.

My heart clenches, a heavy stone in my chest.

I'm not so far gone that I don't pity these people, the way that some of them live. I want to help them, but I can't. Of course I can't. I can't even help myself.

I gasp when I feel someone sit next to me. It's visiting time now, time when your family can visit. That's why I always sit in the common room on Tuesdays—just in case my family might come.

They never do, though.

When I feel heat and smell something spicy, I know it isn't my Aunt Maryse or Uncle Robert that's come. My head turns, my eyes widening and breath catching.

The man that is half sprawled in the chair is unnaturally beautiful—light golden skin, golden messy curls, a perfect jaw and nose and mouth. His beauty is all warm colors and raw power, and his eyes are the color of brandy, liquid and moving.

He smiles a half smile at me that's full of recognition. He arches his brows, as if waiting for something, and when I continue to stare—not just at his lovely features but also at the nagging familiarity hidden within them—he leans forward towards me and says, "Well, I see you've gone and got yourself thrown in the nuthouse."

My mouth pops open in shock.

He leans back again, his eyes tracing down my body before moving back up and meeting my eyes. "You look awful."

"Do I _know_ you?" I demand suddenly, his insult making my voice come out sharp.

The boy looks briefly taken aback before he leans in suddenly, grabs the sides of my chair, and scoots me so close that our legs crunch together.

I'm so shocked I can't move.

"You're taking our usual cat-and-mouse game to the extreme, don't you think?" he asks, his face right in mine. His breath is hot against my cheeks. "Playing up the crazy act, getting yourself put in this hellhole. What's your plan?"

"My p-plan?" I echo, feeling my head spin.

"Doesn't matter." The boy shrugs and drops a devastating grin—a grin that brings back feelings of fear and evil. "You're gonna lose the game this time, sweetheart."

"Let go of my chair," I whisper, my lips beginning to tremble.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong. _

_ Evil._

_Hair like an angel's, and eyes like the devil's._

"You actually look pitiful," the boy, murmurs, cocking his head at me in the most predatory way, not one ounce of pity or empathy in his eyes—only curious amusement. "You look like you really are scared."

Fear shoots down my spine, into my leg, and it swings up, kneeing him right between the legs. The movement is so sudden and so viciously powerful that I can't believe it's mine. And it doesn't feel like mine. It feels like something else.

The boy doubles over, groaning. And then he starts laughing, a painful wheeze of laughter that chills my bones. "There's my girl," he mumbles.

"Clarissa!" the orderlies are shouting now because they've seen me hurt the boy.

_No_, I try to tell them. _No, he's not nice. He's evil—that's why I hit him! Not because I'm mean. I'm not mean._

They don't listen, though.

They grab me, and I start panicking because the boy is standing up, now, recovered from his hit. He's tall, forever tall like Sylvie said, and he's dangerous. Even such a simple move as standing looks graceful and fierce, unnatural.

Half his mouth pulls up into a grin as the orderlies haul me up, and his brandy eyes are swirling, changing until they are almost yellow gold. They glow.

A flash of a memory assaults me, a memory of fangs and biting and snarling and pain.

I'm screaming now because I'm terrified.

The orderlies are having a hard time controlling me.

"I'll be back for you, sweetheart," the boy yells over to me as the orderlies drag me across the floor. He jerks his chin up at me and drops a wink, his eyes becoming human once more.

But I still scream, the memory of his yellow eyes still flashing behind my eyelids every time I blink.

And then I feel a sting in my arm, and my world becomes my nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: One more update before I have to take my cat to the vet! In this chapter, Jace pays Clary another visit. Things are going to be a little vague still, but eventually, you'll get answers. I promise! Please review!(:**

* * *

_Chapter Three_

She's lost.

Lost in the woods. And she's running because he's chasing her.

Fear makes her limbs move faster than possible. Her hair blows back, her feet barely touching the ground as she shoots through the dark forest.

But she's no match for him.

He's behind her, running into her, toppling onto her. They fall down, rolling amongst rotten leaves and scurrying night bugs.

She fights, fights as hard as she can remember. But she knows the point is moot now. She knows she can't get away.

She'll never get away.

Always bound.

Always running.

Never free.

Because.

_They want out_.

* * *

I gasp, my eyes opening up to the gray ceiling streaked with the shadows of raindrops.

I sit up, looking around my cold, plain room. It's night, but I have no idea how long I've been asleep.

Aline is in the bed across the room, on her knees so that she may peer up into the high, barred window and watch the rain. She doesn't sleep at night, not unless they make her.

This is when we usually talk, if she can hold a conversation.

I try to see if she's with me tonight. "Aline?"

"Yes, Clary?" she whispers, staring out into the rain. The shadows streak across her face, too, just like they do the ceiling and our room.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Forever," Aline sings. She shuts her eyes and begins swaying back and forth, a smile blooming on her face as she clasps her hands. "We're all asleep. Forever asleep, until we wake up."

"When will we wake up?" I inquire, pulling my knees to my chest.

"When we die," she says simply.

I inhale deeply and look at the door to our room. It's very simple, old and white. But it's locked, locked from the outside so we can't escape.

They're locked up, too.

I shiver and turn towards Aline again. She's looking out at the rain once more, no longer swaying but staying deathly still. "Have you seen the boy with the devil's eyes again?"

Aline sighs. "No."

I should be relieved, but I'm not. _I'll be back for you, sweetheart,_ still rings in my ears.

"He wants you, Clary," Aline murmurs, nodding to herself. "He wants to take you away, make you his. He wants to live with you in a pretty castle with gumdrops on the walls, and he wants to make love to you until he kills you, until _he wakes you up_."

I press my fingers to my temples, to see if I can feel the pulsing of the throbs I feel in my mind, but I cannot. The pain, just like everything else, is in my brain, far out of my reach yet so close.

I lay back down in my bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. I turn my back to Aline and her haunting staring, and I close my eyes. I think, always thinking, always hearing things—things that are not mine.

"Aline, do you think I'm crazy?" I whisper softly—terrified she'll hear.

But she does hear. And she answers, "We're all crazy. Everyone is."

And then I cry.

* * *

My dreams are horrifying once again.

But the dreams then become reality when I wake with a start, my eyes flying open as I sit up quickly. I breath roughly as I blink in the dark room, letting my eyes adjust.

The room is even darker than before.

But it is still raining.

Aline actually sleeps in her bed, her breaths slow and even.

Everything seems peaceful to my eyes, but to my body, everything is wrong. There's warmth that I'm not used to in the drafty room. It's very faint, subtle, but there nonetheless.

So I turn my head towards it, and that's when a hand roughly presses into my mouth, silencing my screams and slamming my head backwards onto the wall.

My hands go up, ready to claw, but they are caught, too, with another large and burning hot grip.

Eyes that reflect yellow like an animal's glow in front of me, and even in the darkness, I can see his smile.

My blood runs cold.

"Told you I'd be back for you," he whispers. "Sorry it took so long. I was held up."

I try to scream despite myself, a sound that comes out as a muted hum against his hand.

His grip on my wrists tighten so suddenly and painfully that tears fill my eyes. "Don't be bad, Cassia." The name sends a bolt of recognition I cannot place. "Or I'll have to hurt you," the boy goes on with a devious smile, as if begging me to give an opportunity.

I go dead still because I know he will hurt me. I know he will enjoy it, and I don't want to give him the thrill.

He looks rather deflated. "You've gotten awful tame, sweetheart. I'm starting to get a little worried." He glances over at Aline, who is still sleeping soundly, and then his inhuman eyes find mine. "Let's get you out of here, and see if we can't find some of that fighting spirit of yours again."

I stare at him blankly, my body going numb.

Is this real?

Yes.

No.

Maybe?

I don't know. Maybe this is just a dream. If it's just a dream, I have nothing to fear. I tell myself to breathe again, to relax a little; because it is impossible the boy is here. Security is too great. There's no way he can get into this room.

"Now, be a good girl and don't scream when I take my hand away," the boy warns, arching his brows at me as if talking to a child.

A familiar sense of hot anger fills me, but I push it away.

"If you scream, you'll just attract attention, and I'll have to kill people," he goes on, conversationally. Then he smiles. "You don't want that, do you?"

I shake my head as firmly as I can against his grip on my mouth.

"Great." The boy eases his hand away from my lips and waits.

I make no sounds. I just stare at him with wide eyes, my body shivering slightly.

"You're doing great, Cassia." The boy nods and uses his grip on my wrists to haul me up onto the floor. "You're listening to my instructions—for once."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but now I'm looking over at Aline, and how still she is and I ask the boy, "Did you hurt her?"

"Who?"

"Aline?"

"That nut over there? I didn't kill her, if that's what you mean—just gave her a little tap on the back of the head so she wouldn't be a bother to us. Did her a favor, if you ask me. Now she'll finally get some sleep." The boy glances over at her, and then backs at me in devious questioning. "Want me to finish off the job?"

"No!" I yell, forgetting myself.

Before I can regret my outburst, I'm slammed against the wall, his hand smooshed against my mouth once again. His body is firmly pressed into mine, and it's hard, and large, and warm—too warm to be human. His eyes are starting to swirl again as he bends to put his face so close to mine.

My body freezes up despite his heat.

"Now, I told you to be quiet," he warns, his breath almost scalding against my ear. "I am sorry, though." He bends his head even further down, his nose skimming my neck and the pounding artery there. I feel him inhale deeply and press his nose briefly into my hair, as if taking in my scent. "You know how I like to hear your screams," he murmurs with a smile in his voice.

Terror makes me bite down on his hand—hard.

"Dammit," he exhales quietly, jerking his hand away and inspecting it for damage. I haven't broken the skin—just left angry red marks on his golden hand. He glares at me, his eyes swirling faster now.

His features seem to blur for a moment.

I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming when I feel his hand reach back and grab a handful of my hair, jerking my head back roughly. My eyes sting with pain.

The boy's fiery gaze is locked onto my eyes as his chest presses against mine in his anger. I think I feel him rumbling, almost growling—a low sound that might only be a figment of my imagination.

The boy's anger radiates out, bringing my own rage to the surface until we're both glaring hatefully at each other, our breath fast.

And then, like a light being switched off, the boy's anger fades and he laughs once. His hold on my hair loosens just enough that it doesn't hurt, and he steps back to run his eyes up and down my body. He does it slowly, lingering on my chest and on my neck before his eyes meet mine again.

There's a new light in them this time—not anger or cold curiosity or devilish glee. This light scares me even more.

"You are a fiery little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs, almost to himself. And his eyes become a little distant, as if remembering something. His lips pull up into a grin as he blinks and looks at me again. "C'mon, sweetheart. We have places to be."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Getting closer to getting more answers. I promise. Stick with me, and even though I promised myself I'd never ask people to review every author's note like a lot of people... please, please, PLEASE review! I totally get why all the authors beg for reviews. It's the whole point, I think, of this is to get people's feedback on your work, to see how you measure up. You will make my week if you review! Thanks(:**

**And now... JAIL BREAK!  
Or Mental Institution break, if you wanna get fancy.**

* * *

Chapter Four

The door is unlocked.

But _their_ door isn't unlocked—just mine.

The boy pulls me out of it, down the hall. The institution is frightening in the night. The halls seem too long, stretched out and bathed in eerie moonlight and raindrop shadows. Everything is still, quiet, despite the occasional moan or laugh from inside the locked and closed off rooms of the patients.

The boy still holds onto my wrists, pulling me behind him like a limp doll. His legs are so much longer, and he walks briskly, leaving me to miss and few steps and stumble. His hold on me is the only thing that keeps me from falling.

When we're in the common room, I shiver because it's so empty. The windows are cold looking as the rainwater streaks down them like tears. The plastic chairs that are usually occupied are vacant, and it scares me.

"Come _on_," the boy growls impatiently, yanking me forward so that I almost crash into his back. He turns to glare at me briefly.

I don't comment back. My mind is a little hazy, muddled. Things are dream-like, wispy and unfocused. It's different than my usual delusions, and I wonder if the staff has given me too much medicine again.

We're outside now, on the porch. The rain is falling so heavily that I cannot see the woods in the distance, nor the halfway taken-care of grounds that I usually enjoy spending my time on. There's just gray rain, coming down in sheets.

The boy doesn't pause before he plunges into it, pulling me behind.

We're instantly soaked.

The ground is wet and sloppy, and my perfectly white tennis shoes get filthy and caught up in the choppy terrain. I stumble some more.

"Am I going to have to carry you?" the boy demands, irritation seething in his voice. "It's like trying to walk with a newborn calf."

I don't care what he's said because now he's trying to lead me into the woods. We aren't supposed to go into the woods. Bad things are in the woods.

So I grind my feet in and refuse to move, a whimpering sound coming from my throat that the boy hears even in the roaring rain.

He turns to me, impatience etched on every inch of his face. "What the hell is wrong with you now?"

I can't point so I nod my head at the woods.

"We don't have time for you stupid games," the boy growls, reaching down and tossing me over his shoulder like I am nothing but a small sack of flour.

I gasp, the blood rushing to my head as I'm tilted over his back. He begins walking again, much faster without the hindrance of my short legs, and we plunge into the woods despite my quiet sounds of protest.

I bump along on his shoulder uncomfortably. I feel a little sick to my stomach, and I contemplate how furious the boy would be if I vomited down his back. The idea brings a sick sense of a satisfaction to me, and I'm surprised at myself.

"Here." The boy's stopped now, and he throws me unceremoniously down. I would have fallen into the churned up forest floor if it weren't for a shiny red car that catches me. The boy produces two zip ties from his pocket and places the first on my wrists, pulling it almost painfully tight. He glances up at me from underneath his rain-drenched lashes. "Sorry, sweetheart. These are necessary, after last time. I have to protect my pretty face."

Then he kneels in front of me, placing the other zip tie on my ankles. When he's done, he doesn't just stand up but rather slips one of his burning hands under the leg of my scrubs and smoothes it up and over my calf.

I gasp and try to kick him, but it's impossible with my ankles bound.

He looks up at me, rainwater running down his perfect face and making his curls stick to his forehead. He grins at my helplessness before finally standing, his body too close to mine. He tilts his head just slightly so his nose can skim the crown of my head, and he inhales. "Mm," he murmurs. "You smell so good. Like fear."

I press myself back into the car, terrified and angered by his statement.

He doesn't seem to notice. He simply leans to the right and opens the passenger door of the car. He jerks his chin at. "Get in."

I look down at my ankles, then towards the car, and then at him again, a silent question.

He smiles in response.

I sigh and hop degradingly until I can halfway fall into the seat. And then the boy is shutting the door so swiftly that he almost takes my feet off—which I assume he does on purpose.

A moment later, he's in the driver's seat and digging around in his pocket. "Mind if I smoke?" he asks. Before I can answer, he's already got a cigarette in his lips, a lighter in hand.

I watch as he ignites the flame. It flickers, casting shadows on his face, making him even more golden. The flame is bright, angry and impatient. I watch it as if in a trace as it moves towards the end of the cigarette. The fire licks at the slim white stick, catching onto it and beginning the slow burn. There's smoke now, billowing out of the boy's mouth and from the cigarette, too.

The flame hasn't gone out yet.

_Fire_, I think.

And then I pass out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Ok! So you get a slightly better understanding of what's happening in this chapter-not much, but a little. I'm just writing Chapter Six now, and even though I have a general idea of where this story is going, I don't know how many twists I'm going to throw in-hopefully as many as possible because I love a good jaw-dropping moment in a story! (:  
**

**Anyway, enjoy! (:  
**

* * *

Chapter Five

"Wake up!"

I gasp awake, trying to sit up, by I'm being held down—held down by hot, strong hands. When my eyes open, I see only golden orbs. I try to scream, but one of the hands is already clasped against my mouth.

The memories come rushing back, and now I know.

I've been kidnapped.

Kidnapped from a mental institution.

Mental.

Crazy.

Am I crazy?

"You sure as hell act like it," the boy grunts, and I realize I've asked the last question aloud. "Now, get up."

Before I can move, the boy hauls me up. My ankles and wrists are still bound by zip ties, but I'm no longer in the car. We're standing under a rickety lean-to, in the middle of a country field. The rain is still pouring down, but the sky is starting to lighten to the softest color of gray. I know now that dawn is fast approaching. But it won't matter unless the clouds go away, so that you can see the sun, so that you can know it is light again.

"Hey!"

I jump and look over at the boy, who is practically growling in frustration.

"What are you doing?" he demands. "What kind of little stunt was that?"

"What?" I whisper, confusion in my brain. Always confused.

I'm suddenly slammed into the wall of the lean-to. It's made of logs, and they are wet and cold and bumpy. The boy is pressing me into it with his forearm across my throat.

His face becomes my world, and his eyes are swirling again. "I'm not playing this game, Cassia. My patience over the last thousand years has run very thin. As much as I enjoy our love-hate, cat-and-mouse relationship, this time you've taken it too far. You're not Alfred Hitchcock, so why don't you stop trying to play psychological games."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I cry, tears starting to well up in my eyes.

"Don't lie to me!" he growls—and it is truly a growl, half unintelligible, like the roaring of an animal.

I start crying.

This makes him angrier.

"Tell me what you're doing," he insists, his voice slightly more understandable now. But his hand is suddenly on my throat, squeezing so tightly I can't breathe. My feet dangle uselessly underneath me as my back slides up on the logs. "Tell me, or I swear to God, I'll kill you. I don't mind waiting another twenty years."

I've never been so terrified, not even when I'm trapped in my own nightmares—because those are just nightmares.

This is real, more real than anything I've felt in the last ten years I can remember. This is my awakening.

"Please," I gasp, feeling my face turn red as the squeezing against my airway continues. "Please, stop."

"Tell me where you hid it," he orders, slamming me against the wall again. He's only using the hand he's choking me with to hold me up. "Tell me where you hid that damn spell or I'm going to kill you right now!"

"I don't know!" I wailed. "I don't know what you're talking about! Please! Please stop!"

The boy's hand tightens, tightens so much that I begin to see spots and then I see nothing at all. My vision is completely black, but I'm not dead. At least, I hope I'm not dead because the confusion and chatter in my brain remains. I've always prayed that at least when I die, I will be set free of the voices and memories. That I will at least have peace.

And then my vision returns, as does the air in my lungs. I gasp in air as I sail through the air, crashing roughly on my backside because my ankles and wrists are bound and unable to break my fall.

I start choking, my throat throbbing.

The boy runs his hands angrily through his hair, and the damp curls bounce back in place. He's staring out at the storm, his face hard and his jaw working. I see the wheels turning in his head, I see him plotting.

I'm terrified of what he might have planned.

He glances back at me, as if sensing the dread, and then squats in front of me. "Why were you in the nuthouse?" he asks sharply.

"B-because," I splutter quickly, not wanting to upset him again. "My aunt and uncle put me there. They said I was a danger to myself and—"

"Who is your aunt and uncle?" he interrupts.

"Maryse and Robert Lightwood," I mumble automatically.

The boy frowns as if I've said something very wrong. "Do you know a Hodge Starkweather?"

"N-no," I whisper.

The boy's jaw feathers, and he pauses for a long time, his eyes piercing into mine, searching for the first hint of a lie. "Do you know me?"

I pause, too, because I want him to understand how very serious I am when I say, "No."

"You're lying," he accuses, but his voice lacks true conviction.

"No, I'm not. You seem familiar," I say quickly. "But I can't place you. I don't even know your name. But I don't know anyone's name. I don't remember anything. I can't remember anything since I was a child. I don't know why, but it's just the way it is. They say it's because I've had some sort of trauma when I was in the foster care system, but I don't know. I just don't know. And now you're here, and the voices, they're so loud. They're screaming at me—"

"Voices?" the boy cuts into the longest monologue I've given in two years.

I nod hesitantly.

"What kinds of voices?"

"The crazy kind?" I offer, shrugging. At the boy's flash of fury in his eyes, I go on, becoming angry myself. "I don't know! They're voices in my head that aren't mine! I don't know what else you want!"

"I want some damn answers, that's what I want," he hisses.

"You're not the only one," I shoot back.

The boy looks out at the rain again, and his profile is so sharp and strong and familiar that it tickles my brain, a whisper of a secret hidden in the dark recesses of my mind.

He looks back at me, his face grim. "What do the voices tell you?"

"That…that they want out," I manage to say.

This lights a fire in the boy's eyes. He leans in eagerly. "Do they tell you how to let them out?"

"No!" I fume. "No, I won't let them out. They're evil—evil and dark and cruel. They'll bring the world to flames."

The boy's teeth grind. "Well, some things never do change, I guess."

"What?" I inquire.

"Just that we've been playing this game for going on a thousand years now, and I'm sick and tired of it," he snaps.

"A…a thousand years?" My mind is whirling, and it's hard to focus.

"Anything else you care to enlighten me on?" the boy questions, ignoring my spluttering.

I meet his eyes, and I hesitate, because I'm terrified of him. Fear has turned my blood cold, made my mouth go dry.

"What?" he asks impatiently.

"You," I say.

"I what?" he prods.

I inhale once before exhaling the words. "You're bad."

The boy blinks, as if hadn't been expecting my answer, but he quickly recovers and stands gracefully, staring down at me. Then a smile ghosts over his lips, and he says, "That's the most sensible thing you've said all night."

And the he hits me and my vision goes black.

* * *

**Poor Clary. She keeps ending chapters passing out or getting _knocked_ out! Poor girl! And next chapter, you'll get a lot more answers! Please review!(:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Okay, so we are getting into the answers now. Finally! I'm not going to dump everything on y'all at once, though, because I don't think anyone wants to read the whole background (which is long and detailed) in one sitting, nor do I feel that it's realistic for Clary to have to wait ten years without knowing what anything means and then for her to get all the answers to her questions in a nice and neat little bow. Plus, there are going to be quite a few twists as the story goes on. I'm not one of those writers that know every little detail before I start writing. For me, it's the characters and general story that urge me to write, and then, as I progress, I start "discovering" the big events in the story. So, who knows what will happen, but right now, I have a fairly good idea.**

**Anyway, sorry for the long author's note! Yikes! Please forgive me for my rambling, and please review! Thanks to everyone that has already! It means a lot! **

* * *

Chapter Six

My eyes open to a ceiling that's unfamiliar. The bed underneath me is firm, unlike the lumpy, flat mattress I'm used to. My heart starts beating fast as I sit up, finding myself in a dull hotel room, decorated in pastel tones that have faded into varying tones of gray.

It reminds me of a hospital, the room I was in a few years ago…

The memory is fuzzy, and it makes me sick so I focus on something else.

I look down at myself and see I'm in a gray t-shirt that is so big it comes to my knees. It's not what I had been wearing: the hospital issued white scrubs. I sniff at it. It smells spicy, and the scent, though appealing in an unbiased sense, strikes me as wrong. It gives me chills.

I glance around the dark room again. The curtains are drawn tight, but gray light seeps through the edges and I hear rain outside.

Where am I?

_Lost_.

A small door creaks open and the golden haired boy walks out, pulling a white t-shirt over his head as he goes. I catch a glimpse of tattoos on his torso before they are covered.

He glances over at me uninterestedly. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Where am I?" I whisper through trembling lips.

The boy ignores my question. "You've been sleeping forever," he as he walks over to a small table and grabs a pack of cigarettes. "I would've thought I'd killed you if it hadn't been for the drooling."

My hand immediately goes up to my mouth, inspecting for crust with wide eyes.

The boy smirks as at me briefly, and I feel a flash of irritation. "Just kidding," he says.

I glare. "You can't _kid_ with me."

He looks affronted. "Why not?"

"Because you_..._you _kidnapped_ me!" My voice is hoarse from misuse, and it whispers and breaks and creaks in places.

"That place was disgusting," the boy comments, grabbing a lighter. "You should be thanking me."

"Excuse me if I'm not feeling particularly gracious," I snap, shocked at myself. I've never been particularly irritable nor have I ever had the ability to sound halfway intelligent when angered. Yet I continue. "It must be a side effect of getting knocked in the head."

The boy smirks and lights the end of his cigarette, where it dangles from his mouth. "I'm glad to see your sarcasm has remained in tact throughout your ordeal."

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice becoming soft again, the steam I felt now deserting me. It feels as if I'm two people. Two people, one is the right one and one is the wrong one.

Which one is which?

The boy inhales once before blowing out a cloud of smoke. He puts the lighter down on the table, straightening it so that it is lined up perfectly to the pack of cigarettes.

_Lines. Always lined up, in perfect order._

_ He likes things in perfect order._

"Where are my clothes?" I continue when he doesn't respond, slightly encouraged by his lack of hostility. It helps me to ask another question. "Where am I?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The boy glances over at me, eyebrows arched as he blows out another puff of gray smoke. "You don't get to ask questions right now." He saunters over and sits on the bed next to mine. "That right belongs solely to me. How long have you been in the hospital?"

"Two years," I say automatically, before I can think to refuse his request for information. But after hundreds of therapy sessions with Dr. Carmen, I'm trained to answer a question when I hear it.

"Who put you there?"

"I told you," I say, and there's irritation in my voice. The emotion is almost foreign to me, it's been so long since I've used it. "My aunt and uncle."

"But they aren't your blood?"

"No."

"Then why do you call them your aunt and uncle?"

"I'm not answering anything else until you answer some of my questions," I insist stubbornly and as strongly as I can.

The boy sighs in a dramatic fashion, but an amused smile quirks his mouth. He obviously finds my demands humorous. "All right."

I blink, surprised he's complied. But I quickly blurt out the first thing I think of. "Who are you?"

"My name's Jace."

_Jace_.

_Jonathan._

An old time.

Old. Very old. Old spanning years and years, centuries even.

The name, like his face, is so familiar that it makes my mind scream. Hazy images brush through my conscious thoughts, wisps that fly by too quickly to catch. I try to follow them through the darkness, but I'm soon lost.

"Now, why do you call those people your aunt and uncle?" Jace inquires.

I'm taken off guard so I answer. "Because I didn't want to call them Mom and Dad."

"When they adopted you?"

"Yes."

"I see." Jace nods slowly. "When were you adopted?"

"Ten years ago."

"And you're seventeen." This isn't a question.

"How do you know?" I ask, chilled.

"I perused your file at the hospital. I didn't see everything, though, so I need you to fill in the holes for me," he murmurs calmly. He speaks to me now without malice, but it is not comforting. The way he talks now is cold and calculated, as if inspecting everything I say for some hint of a lie.

"Why are you doing this? Do you know why I'm hearing things…seeing things?" I whisper, my voice coming out broken again, the strength I've managed to keep up since I woke slowly draining away.

"I'm doing this because you are a means to an end." He smiles heartlessly. "You're very important, even if you don't know it." He pauses and leans in, his elbows on his knees and his face closer to mine. His eyes start glowing, this time with a slightly maniacal light. The light scares me. "You're the key."

Key.

_The door is white. It's locked and the paint is chipped and it looks frightening, even in its decrepit state. But that's the point. No one will approach it. No one can open it if they do. They can't open it. It can't be open because _they_ will get out. I won't let them. I won't let them get out. _

_ I _can't_._

My head is stabbed by pain, and my vision starts going dark. Pictures fly through my mind at a breakneck speed, and they're all about the door. It's all about the door. Everything is.

I'm the key.

The key to the door.

"Yes," Jace says because I've spoken aloud without realizing. "You know the door."

"No," I insist, shaking my head. "I don't know it…I…I can remember it, but I don't know why…" My head is splitting. The push to understand has it screaming in protest. I try to press on, try to understand the door, but I'm thrown back. So I look up at Jace in frustration. "Why can't I remember?"

Jace is staring at me very carefully, with prodding eyes. I know he's suspicious of me. I can see it etched into every line on his face, but he seems to understand my sincerity and he shrugs. "I don't know. I've never encountered this before—this certain scenario. You usually have Hodge to help you. And even if you don't, you never are driven mad by the memories… Perhaps you've been brought back one too many times. Maybe there are side effects."

"Brought…brought _back_?" I whisper, my eyebrows puling together.

_Death._

_ Dead, dead, dead._

_ Blood on my torso. Water in my lungs. Swords protruding from my heart. Knives slashing across my throat. Teeth sinking into my neck._

_ Then sleep._

I've died.

When?

Many times.

Why?

"Because you killed me," I say before I've really thought it through. I look at Jace in unguarded fear and accusation. "You've killed me!"

"Only once or twice," he amends with a half grin that sends shivers down my spine. "You usually do the deed yourself."

"_Why_?" I gasp.

"Because." Jace shrugs. "You get caught by me, you know there's no way out, so you kill yourself. You get brought back immediately, except you are literally reborn—starting as a child and growing up again. Then I have to hunt all over creation for you. It's a redundant, draining process. Which is why I am sometimes less than polite with you. I'm usually devastatingly charming." He smiles and winks.

I chose to ignore his last comments. Instead, I ask, "I'm brought back to life? Why? _How_?"

"It's a very long, drawn-out story that I've told so many times that it bores me." He waves his hand flippantly. "I'm not fond of repeating myself, so I'm going to ask you questions instead. What happened before you were adopted?"

"I can't remember," I say automatically.

"Don't be difficult, Cassia."

"Why do you call me that?" I inquire curiously, the name tickling my subconscious.

"That's your name—your original name. But let's not get distracted. You can't remember one thing from the time you were little until the time you were seven?"

"No. I told you already that I couldn't."

"How can you just forget?"

"I was in the foster system since I was a baby," I say quietly, devoid of emotion. "And Dr. Carmen thinks that I've repressed the memories of my foster childhood until I got adopted and things were better. She thinks…she thinks I was abused." My fingers unconsciously go to the scars on my arm.

Jace takes notice. "I see," he says. Then his eyes flicker back to mine. "Have you always heard the voices?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Why were you put in the crazy house?"

I stiffen at this. It's too personal, and I refuse to answer. I refuse to say anything at all.

_So much blood._

I repress a shiver.

Jace cocks his head, noting the change in me. "Fine. You don't have to answer. I suppose it's not that important, anyway." He turns slightly, smearing out the flame of his cigarette in the ashtray. Then he rises gracefully and drifts around the bed, towards the window.

His gait is so familiar, the way he holds his shoulders back and almost ambles as he walks, as if he's in no hurry. But each step is smooth and measured, predatory.

He's long, lean, with deceptively powerful muscle. He has strength, despite how slim he is. His less bulky size actually gives him movement and speed. Unnatural speed. Unnatural strength. The color of his hair, the hard, strong lines of his beautiful face, the gold of his eyes—all of these things are unnatural.

Supernatural.

"What are you?" I whisper.

Jace is at the window, now, peeping out of the curtains at the rain. He glances over at me, the shadows obscuring half of his face. He smiles, and the sight of it makes me want to cringe. The air is quiet between us. And then he speaks.

"One of the monsters from your nightmares."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: A few more answers here, and the set-up for the trip Jace and Clary will soon be embarking on! Please review and tell me how you're digging this so far-or if you're not digging it, either way! Just be sure to tell me why you aren't liking it. Thanks (:**

* * *

Chapter Seven

_"One of the monsters from your nightmares…"_

_Monster._

_Fangs. Fur. Eyes. Growling. Anger. Aggression._

_Chasing._

_Predator._

_One of many. One of four._

_Four._

_The Four._

_He's one of _them.

_One of the Four._

I've said the last sentence aloud.

"And here you said you didn't remember me," Jace remarks calmly, letting the curtains fall shut, dousing the room in near darkness once again. "I guess I am pretty hard to forget."

My mind starts whirling again.

_The Four. _

_Demons._

_Evil. _

_Infection._

_Infestation._

"You're a demon?" The words come out as a question because I'm unsure. The word doesn't seem to fit what Jace is. It's not right, not quite right.

"No. Well…" Jace purses his lips, debates. And then says, more firmly, "No." At my baffled expression, he smiles. "I mean to say, that no, I am not a demon in the just-fresh-from-the-fire-and-brimstone sense. However, my origins are demonic."

"You're…you…" I frown, trying to remember. The pictures are flipping rapidly now, the voices in my head screaming at once. And I say, "Werewolf?"

He rolls his eyes and ambles back towards his cigarettes. "If you're completely boring and close-minded, you could say that. But the whole werewolf thing—that's just what humans want to call it because they're stupid. What I can do is much greater than a werewolf's powers. The moon does not bind me. And I shift on command—not because I get too pissy or have a bad day, though the angrier I get, the more my animalistic side comes out. And my senses are heightened at all times, even when I'm in human form. I can smell fear, sense emotions. Silver doesn't hurt me—nothing can. That's just a whole bunch of shit pathetic humans came up with to make themselves seem less inferior. As if they could stand up to any of us." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"You live forever, never aging," I whisper.

Jace has a new cigarette in his mouth, and he smiles around. "That's right. It's all coming back to you, I see." He lifts the lighter up, cupping his hand around the end of the cigarette as he starts its slow burn.

"Just fragments," I say, rubbing at my temple. The pounding is becoming almost unbearable. The pain is so intense that I feel sick to my stomach, and I remember the little white pills they give me at the hospital have been absent from my body for hours now.

"Well, I'm sure everything you know is in that little red head of yours somewhere." Jace takes a drag off his cigarette.

The pain's getting worse and worse. The screaming is getting louder.

Warnings.

Warning me.

_Don't let them._

_The door._

_The key._

_Don't._

_Let._

_Them._

_Out._

_Or the world ends._

_Fire everywhere, burning up straw roofs and people lying in the streets, dead and mutilated. Screaming. So much screaming._

_So much pain._

I'm falling out of the bed, running towards the room I pray is the bathroom. My prayers are answered, and I fall in front of the toilet just in time to vomit profusely. I shake and tremble and heave, purging my body when I wish I could purge my mind.

The images still flash in my head.

But they slow.

And then they're gone, hidden deeply in the recesses of my mind once again, where I hope they will stay.

"God, that's nasty," I hear Jace drawl from the door.

I barely hear him. I'm still too shaken. The images were horribly graphic—people with their faces chewed off, limbs littering the street, blood running like water, children lying in their dead in their parents' mangled arms. It's like something out of a movie, but it's real and that makes it worse, so much worse.

_It's our fault_, the voices inside me whisper in rare perfect unison. _We weren't fast enough._

Then it's silent for a moment in my head, and the feeling is so freeing and so very foreign that I cry I little, tears of relief and tears of sorrow knowing they won't stay gone long.

They always come back.

"I hope you don't have a stomach virus or something," Jace says. "Because we have a long trip ahead of us, and I'm not stopping every time you have to puke."

This is enough to make me lift my head from the toilet bowl. I find him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest casually, not offering his help to me in the least. "Long trip?" I ask, my throat sore.

"To England, where it all began, so to speak. There's an old castle there, and I've got a tip that says that's where the answers will be."

The pounding in my head returns, though not as violently, and I helplessly ask, "Answers?"

"How to break my dear siblings out."

_Siblings._

_A sister._

_Two brothers._

_Family. _

_A family twisted._

_Twisted._

_Grief._

_Pain._

_Death._

"Your siblings," I repeat numbly.

"Yes, so please get up and get dressed. Probably brush your teeth, too," Jace adds with a slight wrinkle of his nose.

I ignore this statement and push myself up on shaky legs. I look down at myself, at the t-shirt that shows too much of my legs to him. The t-shirt that is not mine. I frown and meet Jace's brandy eyes. "Where are my clothes?"

"They were soaked with the rain," he explains. "You look so sickly that I couldn't chance you catching pneumonia or something. So I took the liberty of ridding you of them."

I stare blankly at him, swaying back and forth on my feet. "You undressed me?"

Jace shoves off the doorframe and stretches languidly with a slow smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

There's suddenly a soap dish in my hand. It's cold and ceramic and dirty, but most importantly, heavy, and it's sailing through the air with frightening accuracy and speed towards Jace.

He ducks it neatly, in a superhuman flash of movement. He's out of my sight, chuckling maddeningly.

I look down at my hands, wondering when they've developed such skill and such a mind of their own. I've never done anything like that before, not that I've been awake to remember.

"I found these for you," Jace says, reappearing briefly enough to toss some clothes at my face. "Put them on and get ready. We're leaving tonight."

And with that, he's shutting me in the bathroom, and then he's gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: The first update of a few today. I'm not sure how many exactly, but there will be more. This chapter is pretty short, but I have Chapter Nine almost done now. It should be up soon! (: Please review! Thanks to everyone that has so far! So appreciated!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

"These clothes are ugly," I say, and it's out of character for me to be so outspoken.

Jace, who is in the driver's seat of the car, barreling down the rainy highway, doesn't seem particularly perturbed by my sentiment. "I'm sorry. I didn't exactly have time to drop by Prada's headquarters and grab you something from the fall line."

I turn my face towards the window, to watch the gray countryside blaze by. I've lived in Georgia all my life. I've never even left the state. Or at least, I didn't think I'd ever left the state. Sometimes I wonder.

"You're being surprisingly good," Jace says, and I feel him glance over at me.

"Making you nervous?" I inquire, looking down at the ill-fitting jeans and black t-shirt that hangs off my rail-thin frame awkwardly.

"You don't make me nervous. You're just a crazy little girl, who just a few hours ago was pals with a girl that said bunnies were aliens sent to spy on mankind."

I think of Aline, and I smile slightly. But then I hear what Jace has said, and words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I'm not a little girl."

A slow smile spreads across Jace's face. "No?"

I shake my head.

"All right. I'm not going to argue with you there. When you have some meat on your bones, you're damn fine." His eyes flicker over at me once, his smirk reappearing.

Hot anger fills me to the brim, and it's such a familiar feeling—familiar but not. "Don't you dare talk about me that way," I warn, my voice coming out stronger than I thought possible.

Jace chuckles now, a new cigarette being lit in his lips. "Fine."

It ruffles me how nonchalant he is about all this. He's the one that's kidnapped me, that's telling me these crazy things…

Crazy things.

Fear suddenly grips me.

I'm crazy, right? Certifiable? I was put in a mental institution for schizophrenia and a dozen other things.

Schizophrenia, a psychotic disorder marked by severely impaired thinking, emotions, and behaviors. Schizophrenic patients are typically unable to filter sensory stimuli and may have enhanced perceptions of sounds, colors, and other features of their environment.

This is the clinical definition, the one I read online when first diagnosed.

So is all this real? Am I dreaming it?

I glance over at Jace, watching him as he smokes, as he drives with one hand. He seems very real, very here. But isn't that all part of my madness? Am I just crazy, no real purpose to my life at all?

Jace catches me staring. "Stunned by my beauty?" he drawls.

"Is this real?" I blurt.

Jace's eyebrows pull together a little, and he looks over at me for a brief moment, real shock etched onto his face. He lets out a low whistle. "Damn. You really are nuts this go around, aren't you?"

I'm not sure what comes over me. The anger I've already felt, the anger that compelled me to throw that soap dish, roars back, stronger than ever. And I'm lunging at Jace from the passenger seat, kicking at him and hitting him.

The car swerves, skidding off the lone country road and into the grass. Jace's suddenly fighting back, and he's too strong, too fast. He overpowers me easily, and we wind up laid across the seat of his old car, him on top of me, holding me down.

We both breathe rapidly from the struggle, and his eyes have turned reflective gold again in his anger.

When he leans down, his breath is a hot hiss in my face. "Do you want me to tie you up like dog and throw you in the trunk?" His grip on my wrists gets tight, so tight I grimace. "Do you?" he growls.

My anger's gone, and only fear remains. He's terrifying, towering over me. It scares me how frail I am compared to him. It fills me with hopelessness, and I feel a few tears leak out of my eyes as I shake my head mutely.

This isn't enough for Jace, though. He's still mad, and his grip on my wrists gets pointedly tighter. It makes me cry out, and I feel the bones shifting underneath his touch, easily breakable. All he would have to do was flex his fingers a little more, and my bones would be dust.

"Stop, please," I beg, my voice a whisper.

Jace squeezes once more, a sharp pain shooting through my wrists, and then he lets go. He's off of me and sitting in the driver's seat once more, glaring as I ease myself up and over to my seat.

He throws the car into gear, pulling it out of the wet grass and back onto the road. And then he glares at me again, his good-mood gone. "You try that again, and I'm throwing you on the hood of the car like a deer, got it?"

I nod silently, rubbing at my wrists, which are red and aching.

"Fuck." He touches the side of his cheek, his fingers coming back bloody from where I've scratched him. He swipes roughly at the crimson until its all gone, and there's nothing left but the perfect golden skin of his cheek—not even the four parallel marks I gave him with my fingernails.

"You heal fast," I note, amazed.

"Yeah, lucky me. Or else I'd have scars from where you gouged me," he grumps.

I find myself rolling my eyes. "You never would recover if you got a few scars on your pretty face, would you?"

"You're pushing it, sweetheart," he warns, glaring over at me.

I know I am, so I keep my mouth shut, fighting the urge to say more on the matter.

I am not myself anymore, not that I ever knew who I was to begin with.

Or maybe this new person coming out of me isn't so new. Maybe this is who I've always been but couldn't remember. But who have I been these past ten years? Was that girl all a lie?

My head is splitting, running around in circles. The voices are getting restless, screaming their displeasure at the boy sitting beside me.

_Evil!  
Wrong!  
Abomination!_

The words are repeated, yelled and shouted until they fill every cavern of my mind, roaring into a head-caving crescendo. It's too much, and I finally have enough.

"SHUT UP!" I scream, pressing my hands into my ears, as if to drown them out.

"Jesus Christ," Jace mutters lowly.

But I don't care what he thinks because something greater has happened.

The voices have gotten quiet.

They've gotten quiet because I talked to them, because I did what I never had done before, and I responded to them verbally. And they seem happy now, pleased that I have given into my delusions.

And then I feel more tears slip down my cheeks before I fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Second update! More answers, kinda! Yay! This chapter takes place in the Atlanta International Airport, by the way, which if any of y'all have ever been to is SUPER busy! It makes a sane person a little crazy, so imagine what it's going to do to poor Clary! **

**Please review, y'all! (:**

* * *

Chapter Nine

"Get up, psycho."

I am jolted awake by cool air and a rough shove against my shoulder. When my eyes open, I find Jace standing outside my door, holding it open impatiently.

"Where are we?" I whisper hoarsely, blinking and rubbing at my eyes.

"ATL."

"What?"

Jace sighs, rolls his eyes, and does everything possible to let me see his displeasure. "Atlanta International Airport."

"The airport?"

"Are you deaf now, too? Yes, the airport. Get up!" Jace's too impatient to wait, so he reaches in, grabs my arm, and lifts me out of the car as if I weigh nothing, which I suppose I do.

Nothing.

_I weigh nothing because I don't eat. _

_They tell me to eat, but I don't listen._

_I don't want to._

_So there's a tube, and it's in my throat, invasive and nauseating._

_Things go down it, into my stomach so I don't waste away._

_But I want to waste away._

_Waste away into nothing._

_Because nothing is peace._

_Peace is silence._

I blink, and I find myself being dragged across the car-packed parking lot of the airport. Jace's got a tight grip on my arm, pulling me behind him like a set of rolling luggage.

Time lapses again, as it does sometimes with me on bad days, and then we are magically in the airport.

This wakes me up entirely, though, and I feel apprehension fill me because there are people…everywhere.

They run across the shiny clean floors like ants, all rushing, all moving towards their destinations. They are frantic and quick, like someone has just taken a stick and poked their hive, and now they are scurrying, some angry and others panicked.

I feel sick with the movement, the crowd.

_They will all die_, the voices tell me, in unison once again.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper.

Jace looks over at me, but doesn't comment as he drags me through the masses.

_If you let _them_ out, they will all die._

Flashes.

Flashes of death again.

Bodies mangled.

Eyes open and unseeing.

Blood, bright red against dead white.

Tears on cold cheeks.

Fire on houses.

The whole is on fire.

_The whole world will be on fire._

"What are you rambling about now?" Jace snaps, glaring down at me as he skids to a halt.

I frown in confusion. "What did I say?"

"Something about the world being on fire. Now, please, shut up. I can't have you talking like that when I get the tickets. They'll want to throw you in the nuthouse again." Jace inhales once, his eyes flickering around us, watching the people carefully, before his focus rests on me again. "Just don't say anything-at all."

"Okay," I say.

He looks a little suspicious of my consent, but he has no reason to be. As horrible as he is, as much I as I don't want to be in his company, I cannot get away from him. If I try, I'll only be put back in the mental hospital, my mind hazy with drugs, my every action constricted, trapped in my own head. I've gotten more answers with this boy than I have in ten years, and I'm greedy for more—more information, more hope that I'm not really crazy, that this is all some sort of mistake.

Jace gets the tickets from a pretty girl with blonde hair. She flirts with him. He flirts back, the epitome of charming. If I did not know him the way I do, he would seem perfect. The ticket girl obviously thinks so because she's reluctant to let him go, despite the line behind us. She not-so-subtly passes him something with the tickets, and then we're walking away.

Jace flashes what I assume to be her phone number to me as we walk, an infuriating smirk on his face.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" I ask dully.

He chuckles and tosses the number into a trashcan as we pass. "No, just jealous."

I don't respond because I don't care to. The idea is too ludicrous, and I know, somehow, that if I do respond to him, he will twist it into something its not.

We are going down an escalator now, descending, and it's a long trip, packed with people. I'm shaking slightly, pressed too close to Jace because of the crowds.

When we get off, my legs are wobbly, and then we are going into an underground subway system that Jace has to force me on because my nerves are shot already.

The subway is cram-packed, much too tight, and I have to shut my eyes and try breathing deeply to keep from panicking.

It feels like hours pass, but we are finally free from the train and marching through open terminals, gray light pouring in on us from the rainy sky above.

The chatter here is loud and confusion, much like the chatter in my head. I feel sick again, and I tell Jace.

He sighs and drags me over to a bathroom. I run inside just in time to throw up. It's violent and horrible, but it's over soon and I'm left spent, slumping against the germ-covered toilet.

"Are you all right, honey?" a drawling, Southern voice asks gently from outside the bathroom stall.

I press my face against the cool porcelain of the toilet and try to answer the woman. But the voices in my head start talking to me again.

_You can't let them out, _they say. _He'll try to make you, but you can't believe him. You're the key, Cassia. You can stop it—once and for all. We know a way._

"What?" I whisper. "What do you mean?"

_We know a way. We know how to stop them—forever. And then you'll be free._

"How?" I ask miserably. "I don't understand."

"Honey?" the woman asks again, outside the stall. "Do I need to get you somethin'?" Her voice is cautious now.

"I'm okay, thanks," I manage to get out quickly.

I hear the woman leave, and then I think I'm alone, except I'm not really alone. The voices are talking still, but they have forgotten their unity and all talk at once, their voices clashing together frustratingly.

"Please stop," I tell them, but they are too absorbed to listen.

I press my fingers to my temple, trying to keep my head from exploding.

"Cassia!"

I jump and turn nervously towards the bathroom stall door as it is shoved open and Jace is there, grabbing me and hoisting me up.

"What are you doing?" he asks irritably. "We have a plane to catch."

"_Why_?" I whisper, sagging against him—not because I want to, because his presence is even slightly comforting, but because I am too weak not to.

"Why what?" Jace's voice is more subdued now. I feel his hand press against my forehead, and then I hear him mutter, "Shit. You're too hot."

My eyes close, my legs starting to fold in on themselves. I slide down a little before Jace catches me. "Why me? Why am I the key?" I murmur, my vision going black before explosions of color suddenly dance behind my lids.

Memories assault me, glimpses of golden eyes, and stone, and books—huge books that are very old.

"Because," Jace says, his voice somehow managing to drift towards me from the darkness. "You're the one that locked the door to begin with."

And then everything is black, no light, no memories-just dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Moving right along! Now, Jace decides to enlighten Clary on a few things, though she might wish he hadn't at the end of this chapter! (; Please review! (:**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Flashes.

There are flashes of hazy memory, of horses and carriages, of phonographs, of saddle shoes, of books, and thick glass windows. And then there are flashes of what she thinks is reality, but she's no longer sure—glimpses of uniform seats, of a cold, rainy window, of strange-looking buildings.

She drifts, in and out of consciousness, but even when she's conscious, she's not awake.

Disoriented.

She's so confused, everything is so confusing.

Pain.

Her body aches restlessly, unable to ever be comfortable. She's sweating, her clothes sticking to her frail body.

Questions.

_Is she all right?_

_Yes, she's all right_, a familiar voice always answers. _Just a virus. She just has a virus._

But it's more than a virus.

It's insanity.

And she can't escape it.

* * *

When I wake, I'm once again in an unfamiliar room.

I'm so used to it now that I'm not shocked by it. I simply sit up and look around at what must be another dull hotel room. It's small and decorated in beige tones that are the color of sand. There's an abstract painting on the wall across from me, done in bright colors that tickle my memory.

"Decided to join the land of the living again, huh?"

I glance over to find Jace. He's sitting at the small table in the room, his legs propped on the corner of his bed. A smoking cigarette dangles from his mouth as he pulls back the curtains and peers out. It appears to be dark, but there are city lights, bright neon flashes across his face.

Pain shoots through my stomach, and I press my hands to my abdomen, sure to feel a knife protruding there. But there's nothing.

Jace's standing now, ambling over to me and offering me something. "Take this."

I look up at him in confusion, and he rolls his eyes before grabbing my wrist roughly and dropping a small brown pill into my palm.

"Take it," he orders, jerking his chin to the glass of water on the nightstand beside me.

_Pills._

_So many pills._

_White pills, pink pills, yellow pills—forced down my throat. _

_Because I've done something bad._

_Because I'm crazy._

I shake my head mutely.

Jace's hand is in the back of my hair, yanking my head back fiercely and making me gasp in shock and pain. He's wrenched the pill from my hand, and now he's trying to get me to take it. But I press my lips together tightly, clench my teeth together painfully.

Jace's hands shift, and he's suddenly gripping my jaw, forcing it open. I squeak in agony, and that's enough for him to get the pill past my lips. His hand clasps over my mouth, preventing me from spitting it back out. The hand in my hair tightens again.

"Swallow it," he says, his face close to mine, his eyes glowing again with his irritation. He pulls my hair harder, making me wince. Tears fill my eyes, and the voices in my head are back, screaming so loudly that I'm distracted and finally give into Jace, letting the pill fall down my throat.

The hand he has over my lips moves to grip my chin, and he jerks my mouth open, tilting my head back and forth to make sure I haven't deceived him. Then, when he's satisfied, his thumb runs over my bottom lip, a smug smile suddenly appearing on his face.

So I bite him.

"Shit," he hisses, jerking his hand back. The hand in my hair pulls painfully, and I'm tossed back onto the bed roughly as he releases me, holding his bitten thumb up for inspection. "That's the second time you've drawn blood." I see the drops of crimson on his finger, and I then I lick my lips, tasting his blood.

It's like honey, sweet and rich—not like human blood, the metallic hot, sickening type.

Just another thing that makes him wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Three times, and we're going to have a problem," Jace goes on, meandering away from me, back to his seat at the window.

"Where are we?" I ask, ignoring his threat even though I feel it settling in my bones. Flashes of him hurting me run through my mind, a little clearer than usual.

He's holding me underwater.

He's choking the life out of me with his bare hands.

He's throwing me across a room.

He's slamming me into a wall.

He's biting my neck, teeth and fangs slicing through my skin like butter.

I shiver, pressing my fingers to the unharmed flesh of my neck now, the pain still vivid in my mind.

"England," Jace says calmly, answering my question.

England.

Green hills.

Gray skies.

A stone castle, tall and majestic and unapproachable, perched on the horizon, looming.

Torches.

Books.

Feeling.

Emotion too distant to grasp.

Where it all began.

I say the last sentence aloud.

Jace nods once. "Yep." He's still peering out the window. "I haven't been here in a couple decades. It never changes, kinda like me and you, I guess."

I hear the note of irony and amusement in his voice, but I don't quite understand it. I don't try to understand it because it's not important.

Answers are important.

"Please tell me what's happening," I say softly. "I…I can't help you if I don't know what's happening."

"You wouldn't help me either way," Jace replies. "That's the whole reason why this cycle repeats so much."

"Can't you tell me anything?" I ask miserably.

Jace hears the note of pain in my voice and glances over at me. "Sure. I can tell you some things. The question is, what do I get in return for answers?"

I frown, my head splitting. "I have nothing to give."

"I wouldn't go that far," Jace says casually, smirking. He lights a new cigarette and inhales from it deeply. "This situation is odd. But it presents an interesting compromise. I'll tell you things, give you the answers you want to know so bad, and you go along with me and help me—how's that? Oh, and if you don't, I'll kill your adoptive parents, along with your psychotic friends in the nuthouse, and everyone else you've ever known or loved. Sound like a plan?"

Memories assault me, memories of loved ones lying dead in my arms. He's the culprit. He's killed them. Killed them because of me. So they died because of me. I might as well have killed them myself.

I feel tears well up in my eyes, and I find myself nodding hollowly at him because the thought of Aline and Simon and Aunt Maryse and Uncle Robert being dead is too much. I can't have that kind of guilt on my conscience, not knowing that I could have prevented the bloodshed in some way.

"Great." Jace takes another drag off his cigarette, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. "What's your first question?"

"What medicine did you just make me take?" I ask.

"Only a pain pill. You're having withdrawals from whatever they had you on in the nuthouse."

"What am I?" I whisper softly.

Jace tilts his head. "The definition you'll be most familiar with is a witch. You can work magic, but it's…it's not the kind of magic you see in movies. It's real, it's powerful, and only a certain type of people can do it without killing themselves."

"A witch?" I repeat quietly, dumbfounded.

Jace nods. "Yes, but like I said—that's the closest definition you can understand. You—and your family, when they were living—keep things safe. You keep the world from being invaded."

"Invaded by what?"

"Demons, of course." Jace shifts in his seat, his expression slightly bored despite the wild things he is saying. "Demons from hell. They want to get out, reek havoc on the world—all that. You were created to keep that from happening."

"Created by whom?"

"Now there's a good question," Jace drawls with a grin. "You and I both would like to know that."

I frown and look down at myself, at my tiny little body that's too thin, and I wonder how I could ever save the world from anything. "My family?" I ask, because I remember now what he'd said. "You said something about my family."

"Yes. All your blood relatives were killed in 1203 A.D.. You're the last one standing." Jace smirks. "You're like bad money—just can't get rid of you."

"I put your siblings in the door?"

"You put them in another dimension where their power was limited—where they couldn't get out. You're a tricky little devil—made it so only you knew how to break the spell that bound them there. And then your old grandfather gave you the ability to be reborn so that death would never be a threat I could use against you specifically."

"Why didn't I just make the spell unbreakable?" I inquire, my head spinning. The voices are beginning to get restless again, brought to life by Jace's tale. They are murmuring quietly, unhappy.

"Well, that's a good question, too. Your kind are all about balance and tricks—all that shit. So boring. But lucky for me, of course, because if you hadn't put a little loophole in the spell, then my siblings would be forever bound."

The voices get louder, warning me, but I don't listen to them. "Why aren't you bound, too? Why aren't you locked away with them?"

Jace smiles languidly, stands up, stretches. He puts out his cigarette and ambles towards the door of the hotel room, and I think he will pass right by me without answering. But as he drifts by my bed, he pauses slightly, looks down at me, and smiles again, a dark and devious smile. And the he delivers the deathblow that I know comes with such a look. "Because you were in love with me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Okay, y'all, don't be mad at me for this super tiny chapter! I'm going to update later on in the day, so there will be more. It's just that Chapter Twelve will be a big chapter, and if I combined it with this one, then it would be longer than the other chapters by a good deal. And I'm a little OCD when it comes to needing my chapter to lengths to be around the same size! ****So, enjoy, and please review (plus thanks to the people that have been reviewing, y'all are so awesome)!  
**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"No," I say, firmly, because I know it's not true. _I know it_. The voices tell me it's not so, and I tell myself it's not so, too. Because that's not it. I didn't love him. I've never loved him, this human-looking monster before me.

It's not right.

It's all wrong.

"You fancied me," Jace says, the maniacal light growing in his eyes because he likes this. He likes to see me squirm. "You followed me around the village we lived in like a lost puppy. You blushed like a little girl anytime I said hello. You were completely smitten."

I'm shaking my head, the voices saying, _NO!_ and my own voice saying the same.

_No, no, no, no._

_It's not him I loved. I loved someone else. This is not the same person._

Memories of a bright smile and work reddened hands flash through my mind. Memories of laughter and secret smiles and stolen, innocent kisses. The memories are not of Jace at all.

"No," I say, again.

"Yes," Jace replies unwaveringly. "Just because you say something isn't true doesn't make it so, sweetheart."

"No!" I scream and go to hit him, but he already knows my plan and stops me. In the blink of an eye, I'm lying flat on the bed, with his heavy, burning hot body pinning me down, his hands holding my wrists above my head. I'm helpless once again.

"Remember what I said about drawing blood the third time?" he asks, his voice rumbling in his chest, and I feel the vibrations of it everywhere. He squeezes my wrists, making me whimper softly. "I'm just dying for the opportunity to show you what I meant."

"GET OFF ME!" I yell so loudly that my voice goes hoarse. I'm insane, trying to bite him, thrashing, kicking—anything to be free—but it's of no use. He's too strong, too heavy, and I can't do anything but lie underneath him until my senses are back and I can whisper, pathetically, "Get off."

This time, he listens. He rolls gracefully to his feet, watching me as I sit up stiffly and rub at my wrists.

"I didn't love you," I say once more.

"Maybe not love. That could be a bit dramatic." Jace shrugs. "But you did have a crush on me, a crush that was big enough that I managed to distract you from tossing me into that hellhole you concocted for my siblings so that I could escape. And then you had to lock the door, even though I wasn't inside, because my siblings would get out if you didn't."

I look down at my bright red wrists and wonder how I could have ever been tricked by him. How could I ever have even had a crush on him? Surely, that must be a lie. He was beautiful, yes, but any fool could see the ugliness of his soul underneath.

But I did know I didn't love him. That sentiment was too real to ignore, and I felt myself relax just slightly.

"You said we lived in a village together," I whisper, still looking at my wrists because I can't look at him anymore. "How did no one know what you were? You don't exactly hide it well."

Jace chuckles slightly at that but then sobers as he says, "My siblings and I were once human, Cassia. We haven't always been like this."

I can't help myself, and I do glance up at him now. "What happened to you?"

"Our father made a deal with a demon," Jace murmurs, looking down at his hands briefly, inspecting them for something I don't know. "The demon's freedom from hell for his children's immortality. Of course, the immortality came with side effects—our little demonic gifts."

"And the demon was freed?" I ask in a hushed tone.

Jace looks up at me, his eyes flashing bright gold once. "No. You made sure that it wasn't. You arrived just in time to keep it from being unleashed, but you weren't quite fast enough to keep my siblings and I from being turned immortal."

"I tried to stop it," I say.

Jace nods. "Yes. And you failed."

The memory of the failure comes back to me, and with a deeper sense of longing and pain than I think possible. I wish I could remember more, but the voices in my head become loud again, distracting me from trying.

"What became of your father?" I ask a little hesitantly.

Jace's eyes are in the past, squinted, and he's frowning, remembering things I cannot. Then he blinks, clears his throat, and doesn't look at me as he says, "That's none of your concern. Now, get up. We're leaving."

"Where are we going now?" I inquire, dread filling my stomach.

"To see a friend." Jace grabs a dark leather jacket from the back of the hotel's desk chair and slides his arms into it. "And to get some answers. This time, you're not going to get away with killing yourself. This time, I'm going to get what I want."

And he says it so convincingly, that, horrifyingly, I begin to believe him, to wonder if what he says will come true.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all! This chapter is a little bit darker than usual, though not much. To me, it's not bad at all, not even a little, because I know it's not real, it's just a story I've written, but I know some people are more easily disturbed so... Just a tiny warning! (: Please review, y'all!(:**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Everything is sharper than it has been in years.

Each drop of rain that spatters down from the dark clouds is beautiful, crystal clear. I smell the damp in the air, feel the cool water on my skin. I'm amazed by the lights of the city, the darkness of the sky, the old architecture of the buildings. Everything feels so new, so vibrant, I almost forget that Jace has a death grip on my arm as he pulls me down the streets.

Jace leads me to a museum, a great big hulking building that brims with majesty and old knowledge. We walk up the steps, and I see the hours of operation.

Confused, I say, "It's closed."

Jace gives me a dull look before knocking on one of the many tall glass doors. "No shit."

I ignore him, tilting my head back so that I can see the dizzyingly high ceiling above us, supported by thick grey columns. I'm in awe of everything because I _see_ everything.

The door opens suddenly, and Jace is walking inside, yanking me along with him like a limp noodle.

I had thought the outside of the museum was stunning, but it is nothing compared to the interior. Despite most of the lights being off, despite the skylights above being blotted out by the night, it is breathtaking. High ceilings, shiny floors, beautiful architecture, history oozing out of each glass display.

I try to take it all in, and the task is too gargantuan to accomplish.

I'm dizzy.

"Jonathan?" a shaky, raspy voice enquires, awe in every quiver of his voice.

Jace and I both turn to see a thin rail of a man appearing from the shadows. He is in all black, but his skin is white, as is his hair, though his face is hardly lined with age. His large dark eyes are wide with reverence as he approaches slowly, timidly, but with barely restrained excitement.

"Valentine," Jace says, nodding his head to the man blandly.

"It really is you." Valentine seems to vibrate with rising elation. "I can't believe it. I've seen the paintings, the paintings of you and your family, but I never thought…never thought I'd see…"

I look to Jace in question, but he is staring at Valentine with a rather disgusted expression on his face. And then I hear a sharp gasp, and look back over to the shaky man as his eyes hone in on me, his lips parting.

"Cassia," he whispers.

I want to cringe back from the name, from the look in his eye, but I manage to stand strong.

"You found her," Valentine whispers, looking back to Jace. The man's bony hands clasp together in disturbingly odd glee. "How exciting!" He leans into me, his hand reaching out now. "May I touch you?"

I gasp and ready myself to slap him away, but Jace is already between us, his hand falling on the man's chest, pushing him back. "Ease up," Jace warns, his eyes flashing gold in the dim light.

"So protective of her," Valentine titters before letting out a strange little high-pitched laugh.

"She's the only one that can bust my siblings out of their own personal hell, so excuse me if I don't want your creepy-ass little hands grabbing all over her," Jace says, his eyes narrowing. "Do you have any information or were you just trying to arrange a meet? Because if you were lying…"

Jace doesn't have to finish the threat. It hands in the air like a physical thing.

But Valentine barely seems to notice. He simply beams and exclaims, "Yes, yes! Of course I have information. Follow me, please." The man's eyes dance manically between Jace and I a few more times before he titters again and scurries away, like an overactive rat.

I glance at Jace and arch my eyebrows. "This is your friend?"

He looks down at me briefly before watching Valentine's progress with a hint of repulsion in his eyes. "More like a means to an end. C'mon."

Jace pulls me after Valentine, past countless artifacts that I would love to inspect, and then, we are in a room that truly tops anything I've ever seen.

The room is circular and huge beyond anything, with a dome ceiling made of glass, so that I can see each raindrop stream down. There are books everywhere, made into the circular wall, level upon level, row upon row. So much knowledge, so must history. I itch at the chance to read something because that was a hobby I enjoyed before…before I did something bad and went to the hospital.

"Come, come!" Valentine chirps with alarming gaiety. He's fluttering about the room, running towards a huge desk piled with old tomes, some open and others stacked.

Jace drags me over.

"I've exhausted every resource I have," Valentine practically sings, glowing with delight. His eyes can't seem to get enough of Jace and myself. "And I've found a clue."

"Good. Tell me," Jace murmurs, peering down at the open books.

I do the same, and they are written in a language I don't understand. Yet there's something familiar about the words, about the strange spellings and odd pictures drawn in the margins. The voices stir in the recesses of my mind, curious, too.

_What is it?_ they ask.  
I don't know, I reply.

_Yes, you do,_ they say. And then they go dangerously quiet, plotting.

"Hodge knew everything that Cassia does," Valentine says. "You know this much."

"Yes," Jace says impatiently.

"He was chosen by Cassia and her grandfather for the sole purpose of keeping the secret, of finding Cassia when she is reborn and taking care of her. He passes the knowledge down from generation to generation—a standard that has been upheld for centuries." Valentine is vibrating again.

"Your point?" Jace snaps, arching his brows.

"One of the Starkweathers let something slip!" Valentine explodes triumphantly. "In 1973, Luke Starkweather fell in love with a woman named Jocelyn. Jocelyn was a witch, and Luke, lonely from his life of babysitting Cassia, began to tell Jocelyn trade secrets, thinking that she loved him. She was deceiving him, of course, because she wanted the knowledge for a bargaining chip."

"A bargaining chip for what?" Jace asks slowly.

"Immortality, like the likes of you and your siblings."

"Why not simply find one of our pets and let them Turn her?" Jace inquires deadly, but there's a seething curiosity underneath, a curiosity that seems dangerous.

"Well, we both know that being Turned by someone that is not one of the Original Four is not as majestic. You get immortality, but the powers are weakened," Valentine says.

My mind whirls. Turned?

What's that?  
I don't remember.

"So this Jocelyn wants to give me the spell to unlock the door, in return for myself Turning her?" There's something calculating in Jace's voice now.

"Exactly!" Valentine cheers. "Of course, you still know that Cassia is the key—without her, the spell cannot be done."

"But if I know the spell, then I can surely gain Cassia's cooperation in some way or the other," Jace murmurs, looking over at me and running a hot finger down my cheek with a small smile.

I jerk away from him.

Valentine watches all of this with the elation of a child.

"You have Jocelyn's phone number?" Jace asks calmly. Something in him has shifted. His mind has been made up on some matter, and I feel the danger rolling off him in waves.

I back up slightly.

"Yes, yes," Valentine says, digging in his pocket and producing a white slip of paper. "She's living in Maine, now, but I think she will be most willing to join you here."

Jace eyes the paper for a moment before safely tucking it in his pocket. "This is very good information, Valentine. I'm obliged."

He beams.

"You have turned the cameras in the museum off, correct?" Jace inquires, glancing over the old tomes in front of us once more.

"Yes, of course! I know you do not want to be seen." Valentine bounces on his toes a little, his hands wringing together in exuberance.

"And you told no one of this meeting?" Jace looks up at the man across from us, eyebrows raised. "This is very important."

Valentine shakes his head as solemnly as he can in his over-excited state. "No, no. I've followed your instructions to a T. No one knows."

"Wonderful." Jace rolls his shoulders back, tilting his neck back and forth. His limbs seem to shake slightly, as if he's restraining himself from chasing after something. He's in front of Valentine in a flash of movement that's too quick to follow.

Valentine jumps and makes a slight sound of nervous merriment.

Jace rests his hands on Valentine's vibrating shoulders. "You've done well."

Valentine glows again, but he's becoming less and less excited, more and more fearful. But he doesn't make a move to run. He's like a curious, excited kitten drawing close to something dangerous, unable to let it go. "T-thank you."

Jace smiles, but the smile is all wrong. It makes me feel sick. "You're very welcome." And then, he snaps Valentine's neck.

The snap booms through the room.

Valentine's body slumps to the floor, and Jace rolls his shoulders back again, his eyes flashing gold once in the excitement of the kill.

When he looks over at me, I have horrified tears in my eyes, my lips parted as if to speak. But what can I say? There is nothing to say.

_Murderer._

_Monster._

_Evil._

He has no remorse in his eyes, only a slight look of dissatisfaction that I can never understand. He sighs and then jerks his chin at me. "Let's go."

And I'm too stunned to fight him.

* * *

**Not too bad, right? Poor Valentine. I feel kinda bad for him. He was creepy, but he didn't deserve to die! Anyway, I hope y'all liked my weird, nerdy, now very dead, version of Valentine.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Last update of the evening. I've posted a lot today because I wrote a lot today, but that will definitely slow down in the next few weeks (unfortunately, school is starting back). Anyway, you get a little more detail in this chapter. Next chapter will be fun, though! (; **

**Oh, and I glanced over some of my previous chapters... SO MANY TYPOS! Ughhhhhhhh! That drives me up the wall, and I'm so sorry there are all those little mistakes! I'm going to try to proof read closer! Forgive me, y'all!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! (: **

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

"Do you like this?" Jace asks dully, holding up a sweater dress to me.

I shake my head, even though I do like it. I won't let him buy clothes for me, though. It's wrong, wrong after all the horrible things he's done. I'm content to wear these slightly smelly, too large clothes he gave me days ago for the rest of my life.

"Fine. How about this?" He holds up a slinky tube dress in bright red. It has cutouts in the sides, on the back—anything to show as much skin as possible.

I glare, and he smirks as he puts it back.

He's joking with me again.

_Wrong._

My skin is crawling.

"Well, if you don't tell me something, I'm just getting you what I'd like to see you in, which is that little dress. So what's it going to be?" he inquires, glancing around the small shop we've stopped in on our way back to the hotel.

Our way back from killing someone.

I shiver. "I don't want anything."

"No offense, but you stink. So…you're getting something new because I'm not sitting next to you in a tiny train car for a three hour trip."

I look down at the dress he's just held up, and the crimson color of it is almost the exact same shade of blood.

_Blood_.

So much blood on his hands.

On mine, too.

I close my eyes, inhale deeply, wonder why the voices in my head are still very quiet. Their silence is starting to worry me because it is not total silence. I hear them whispering in the back of my head, whispering secrets that they haven't seen fit to tell me yet. It makes my skin prickle.

"You just killed a man," I whisper, opening my eyes to look at Jace in undisguised disgust.

"So that's what's bothering you?" he inquires on a scoff. He rolls his eyes and leans into me, so that we are not overheard. "I've killed plenty of people before, people you loved, and yourself included. I don't see why one creepy little guy's death is bothering you so much."

"It bothers me because I'm a human being," I snap, glaring up at him. I'm reminded suddenly of how very tall he is compared to me, and I feel a little a small.

"Technically, you're not," Jace remarks with a grin. He leans down to me, so much so that our noses almost touch, but it's a challenge, one I don't back down from no matter how terrified I am. "You're just as much as a freak of nature as I am, sweetheart."

I shove at his chest, putting distance between us, and I scowl.

Jace is barely fazed. He grabs the slinky red dress and says, "I'm getting this for you."

"No, you're not," I reply. "Get the sweater dress."

"Fine, if you want to be completely boring," he sighs, and he's back to teasing me again.

* * *

I've never been on a train before.

It's a strange experience, one I'm not entirely comfortable with as I grip my seat and watch the city fade away and countryside take its place.

It's daylight now, but there is an impenetrable cover of clouds that won't allow any sunlight through. It's not raining, but it looks like the bottom could drop out of the sky at any moment, a constant, ominous reminder.

I glance across the small, private car, and see Jace. He's reading one of the tomes he stole from Valentine. He's been reading it for hours now, not once looking up from it. Though it's a rather large book, he's already halfway through, and I wonder if he's that quick of a reader or if he's just skimming.

He's that quick of a reader, something tells me.

I shift, pulling my new dress down lower. It's a bit too high on my legs, and I have no tights to wear under it. I wonder if Jace omitted the tights on purpose.

"What did…what did Valentine mean when he was talking about turning people?" I ask, my curiosity finally overriding my desire to be left alone by Jace.

He doesn't look up from his book. "When my siblings and I were first given our immortality, we could also bestow that gift to others. Each person we Turned would be immortal, but not indestructible. For example, if someone snapped their neck, they'd be dead—unlike my siblings and I. Their powers weren't as great, either. The ones I Turned weren't as strong, weren't as fast, weren't as in control of shifting into a wolf as I am—which is where the legends of werewolves were born."

"So…vampires? Are they real, too?" I ask, remembering flashes of white fangs dipped in crimson, of pale white faces and dead eyes.

"Yes, in a sense. They are my brother's contribution to the world. The men and women he's Turned drink blood to stay alive, but they aren't dead, like the myth suggests. They are still very much alive, only they need blood the way a living human needs food."

"Does sunlight hurt them?"

"No," he says. His eyes are still scanning down the book. "Nothing but your typical weapon can hurt them—a gun, a knife, a bazooka. You get the idea."

"And what else? What about the rest of your siblings?"

"My other brother is what you'd most likely call a zombie, though that's a very poorly substituted word for what he really is. He stays alive through eating living flesh, but not because the flesh is what keeps him physically well. It's the thrill and power and essence of the person as he kills them that feeds him."

I feel bile rise in my throat, but I swallow it down. "And your sister?"

"My sister is where the myth of the siren comes from. She sings to men, bewitches them, and then, she eats their hearts. Unlike my brothers, however, she doesn't need warm bodies to stay alive. She can function, as can I, on regular human food."

"Do you…" I trail off, unsure if I can ask the question. "Do you eat people?"

"I've never had much of a taste for raw human flesh, no." Jace's eyes flicker up to mine, a devious smile crossing his lips. "But I have been known to bite a few hands off here and there."

I almost gag.

We lapse into silence again, and my mind wanders. The voices are whispering softly, getting more and more excitable, but keeping my conscious mind out of the loop maddeningly. What's the point of having voices in my head when they keep secrets from me?

I sigh in frustration before I remember another question I have for Jace, and since he seems to be in an informative mood, I ask, "Who is Hodge Starkweather? And Luke? All those people?"

"Your protectors," Jace answers calmly. "They're human, and Hodge was close friends with your grandfather. Close enough that your grandfather entrusted him with the information to help you throughout your multiple lives. Each time you're reborn, you're memories don't automatically come back with you. There is always a Starkweather there to make the transition easier."

"But Luke obviously wasn't happy with this?"

"It's an old story, Cassia. As generations pass, the loyalty to something lessens each time. Traditions fade. Stories become just that—stories told by parents to scare their kids. By the seventies, there had been hundreds of Starkweather protectors, and to Luke, it must have seemed a stupid tale passed down by his crazy old grandfather. If I remember correctly, you and him did not get along."

"You remember?" I ask. "You knew him?"

"Yeah, I killed him," Jace says offhandedly, flipping a page in his book.

His horrifying admissions are becoming less shocking to me, affecting me less and less, which sends a new wave of terror, the kind of terror I feel for myself.

What does it mean, that I no longer want to cry every time Jace says these things?

I don't know.

Does it mean that I'm just as awful?

_No._

_It just means you're numb._

"Are we almost there?" I whisper weakly, rubbing at the scars I have on my arms.

Jace glances up, out the window. The gray light makes his eyes even brighter than usual. He nods and then smiles. "We're here."

And now I finally do feel that familiar sickness in my gut.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all! First update for the day! The first of many once again. This will be the last day of multiple updates because tomorrow is school (blahhhhh). So the updates are going to slow way down the next few weeks, at least until I can get used to my work load for school and find time to write. **

**Anyway, enjoy and please review! (:**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Getting off the train goes by in a blur, and then we are approaching a dark car. Jace opens the door of it for me, like a gentleman, but his smile is anything but chivalrous.

I pull down my short dress as far as possible before I half fall inside the car—anything to keep him from getting a peek at my underwear.

His smile is full of amusement as he sits beside me.

"Good afternoon," a cool voice says, drawing my gaze to the black, cold eyes in the rearview mirror.

Jace simply nods his head at the man before his attention is diverted back to me. He seems excited now, like a child almost. But his excitement, unlike a child's innocent glee, is tainted and dark—twisted.

"I see your trip has been successful," the driver says before making the car's engine purr to life.

"Yes." Jace's eyes flicker to me for a moment. "In more ways than one. Everything's working out great."

"Excellent, sir."

_Sir._

I cringe.

"This is Max," Jace murmurs, motioning to the man. "Max, meet Cassia."

"Clary," I correct swiftly, glaring at Jace.

"A pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Miss," Max says, ignoring the power struggle between Jace and I with a dull sense of disinterest.

The car is cutting through the countryside now, and despite the strangeness of the land, despite how far away from home it makes me feel, it's beautiful. So green, green grass covering every inch of rolling hills. It's picturesque, even with the threatening promise of storms hovering in the sky.

Storms that will be coming soon.

* * *

"What do you think?" Jace inquires of me as I step out of the car.

The castle is like I remember—gray and ominous and stone, perched on the horizon, a deathly color against the vibrant green of the grassy land surrounding it. There are fallen ruins of parts of the castle lying around the seemingly well-preserved main tower, and they look like fallen dominoes, destroyed and forgotten.

"It's horrible," I say.

Jace smiles as if I've given the perfect compliment. "Come on. We have to get you settled."

This sounds ominous, but I have no choice in the matter.

"Any luggage, sir?"

I turn to see Max's full face for the first time. He's shockingly pale against his black hair and dark eyes, and I feel the chill rolling off of him in waves.

Cold.

It's the cold that does it.

Something in me snaps because now I know. I know that what Max is is not natural. And I'm kicking at him and Jace both because I have to get away.

Everything happens too quickly for me to follow it. My body reacts with age-old training, and then Jace and Max both are doubled over, in pain.

And now I'm running, even though the voices are back to the forefront of my mind again, spurred on by the action.

_Stop!_ They screech. _Stop! We have a plan!_

I don't listen to them because I'm scared. Flashes assault me like slaps, memories of horrifying things—of blood, of fangs, of children screaming and crying.

Of the world burning.

They'll make the world burn.

They've done it once before.

A long time ago.

A time when things were different.

I'm crying now, but I don't know why. The tears are the only thing warm on me as I cut through the damp, cool country.

I know he's behind me.

Chasing me.

After me.

This is familiar.

Images of running for my life through a dark forest, through a grassy plain, through a crop of tall, wavering corn flash through my mind like sharp pictures, each one stinging my conscious, slowing me down.

It's no use, though. I am too slow even when I am fast.

Too slow for him.

He's faster.

He's built for the chase.

He _lives_ for it.

Because what does he have to live for, when he's already dead?

Jace's body slams into mine with jarring force. He's being unnecessarily rough—because he can, because he wants to, because he's irritated, because he _loves_ it.

We crash into the wet grass, and I'm instantly soaked.

But I don't want to give up yet.

A strange sense of pride fills me, urging me not to stop fighting yet, not to let him know he's won yet.

We're rolling now, and I'm kicking and scratching. His forearm is suddenly in front of my face, so I bite it—hard. I dig my teeth in and shake my head a little, like an animal, puncturing the skin.

His honey hot blood pours into my mouth.

"Fuck!" I hear him hiss in pain before his arm is removed from my teeth and I feel a blindingly sharp slap across my head.

It makes my vision go white for a brief moment.

But then I've recovered, and I start my pathetic fight once again, all for nothing.

Everything is for nothing anymore.

The realization makes me slow considerably, and then, in the blink of an eye, Jace has me completely pinned, my wrists restrained by one of his hands, held high above my head. This position is becoming much too familiar—him on top of me, overpowering me. Always overpowering me.

His eyes are angry swirling gold, but they are also excited, wide with thrill.

I can't stand to look at him so I turn my head. I start crying.

The voices go quiet again, satisfied that I haven't spoiled their mysterious plan.

"You crazy bitch," Jace growls above me.

I close my eyes because my thoughts are becoming strangely thick and slow, like molasses oozing in my mind. I don't understand why my head is so heavy.

Jace's weight on my body suddenly becomes very apparent to me, the way he's pressed into me. His body is hard, almost like stone, but it's hot and alive. It warms me, because I'm cold. So cold.

And because I'm so cold I reach for him, pushing my body more firmly against his. I sigh in relief because the heat intensifies, burning away the chill I feel deep inside me.

"What the hell?" I hear Jace mutter.

But I don't care. My mind is slowing to a halt now. The blood in my mouth turns to syrup, sweet and thick, and it runs down my throat, into my brain, making it go to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Sorry if there are typos! I'm in a rush but wanted to post this before I left! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

"Wake up, sunshine," chimes a disturbingly high-pitched, girlish voice.

I blink my eyes open, and I bite back a scream.

There's a girl hovering above me, her long, silken black hair dangling onto my face as her wide, dark eyes inspect me with detached, cold curiosity.

"You have pretty eyes," she says, reaching out as if to touch them, but she pulls her long, white hand back and leans away from me.

I exhale a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, and I sit up carefully, eyeing the girl who perches primly on the edge of the bed I'm in.

Bed.

I frown, looking around at the distinctively medieval room I am in. The walls are gray stone, as well as the floors, but there is color, color in the form of blood-red décor—red tapestries, pulled tightly over multiple, tall windows, red rugs, red everything. The very bed I find myself in is red—red covers, red curtains held back at the bedposts by golden ties.

"Where am I?" I whisper, my voice thick.

"In the castle," the girl says. She's pulling her fingers through her long hair lovingly. "In your room. Do you like it?"

Everything is a shade of blood, and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. There's a chill in the air and a mood in the walls, and it frightens me.

"No," I whisper.

"Oh, well." The girl shrugs flippantly, tossing her hair. "This is the room Jace says you stay in, so…here you stay."

I glance over at her, at her stunningly beautiful face that's slightly wild, and I ask, "What are you?"

"Not very shy about that, are you?" the girl asks with a smirk. "And here I thought you were going to be all quiet. It's not everyday someone wakes up in a strange room, with a stranger sitting on their bed, and they don't even ask questions." The girl cocks her head. "Of course, Jace did mention that you were stark raving mad."

I don't contradict her because I'm not sure if she's right or not. I simply repeat my question. "What are you?"

"I'm one of Celine's," she says. At my confused look, she adds, "I was Turned by Celine."

"Turned into a siren?"

"If you want to call it that."

"But Celine's locked away," I say, and I see a flash of a golden haired woman in my mind. She's angry. There's fire in her eyes—literal flames.

"She hasn't always been," the girl says slowly, as if it is obvious. "When she was first given her gifts, she Turned a select few people—I was one of them—and then, those people Turned others, and so forth, until there were many of us. It's the same way with Jace, and Alexander, and Sebastian, and all the ones they Turned."

I wipe sleep out of my eyes and frown. "Why did I pass out like that?"

"You drank a lot of Jace's blood. It's a form of protection, you know, so like if your enemy attacks you, and bites you, the blood will make you pass out." The girl resumes combing her hair. "I've never really understand why Jace has that gift—it's not like he wants a fight to end with his opponent conking out. But it's the way it is. I'm surprised you didn't know that."

I don't say anything because the voices are back now.

They say, _We have a plan. Remain patient._

_Tell me what it is,_ I urge internally.

But they are quiet again, and there's no use pursuing them.

"Of course, Jace also mentioned that you don't remember anything hardly." The girl pulls her long legs up to her chest. "I'm Isabelle, by the way. We've never met or anything, in case you were wondering."

I wasn't, but I didn't say anything. "Where's the bathroom?" I ask.

"Right there." Isabelle points to a dark wooden door. "I found you some new clothes, too. They're in the wardrobe over there. They'll probably fit you."

I blurt out a thank you through habit.

Isabelle blinks. "Sure. You're welcome." She's eyeing me curiously again, as if searching for something. It unnerves me. "You're very polite. But Jace said you were a total bitch."

"Yeah, well," I mumble, rubbing at my eyes again. "Jace seems to bring out the worst in me."

At this, Isabelle lets out a trilling laugh. "Yeah. He can do that with everyone. It drives girls crazy." She winks.

I grimace and think I don't need anymore help in that department.

Slowly, I get out of the bed and stand up. My legs are a little shaky, but other than that, I feel very rested. It's the first time I haven't felt drowsy when I wake in months, years even.

I shuffle towards the wardrobe and find it filled with clothes I would never wear. Slinky looking things, in mostly black. What I really want are some holey, light colored jeans and a big t-shirt splattered with paint from one of my projects.

I sigh hollowly, missing my painting, my room, my books—everything about my old life.

I messed everything about that life up.

But I suppose it's for the best that Aunt Maryse and Uncle Robert committed me after the incident. If not, I'd still be with them. Jace would have still found me. And he might have killed them just for the sport of it. Something in me had no doubts that he would.

I pick out the least revealing article of clothing—a turtle neck dress that looks much too clingy and is light gray.

Without another word to Isabelle, I go into the bathroom, which is no less ordinate and gothic than my bedroom. There's no shower, but there is a tub and I take a long soak in hot water. I hope it will relieve my nerves, but it doesn't.

I'm beyond comforting now.

So I wash off, dry myself up, and put the dress on. I comb through my wet hair and look in the mirror. My face is slightly fuller now, since I've been eating more, but my lips have been chewed down to the quick in many places and there are dark circles under my eyes, like smudges of chalk.

I know if I keep looking at myself, I will cry, so I go back to my room, surprised to find Isabelle still perched on my bed, humming to herself.

"Are you babysitting me?" I inquire.

Isabelle glances over at me. "Yes. Jace said to watch you until he comes back. He doesn't want you running away again."

I simply nod deadly before shuffling towards one of the windows. I pull the thick tapestries back to peep outside. It's dark now, and there is mist hanging low to the ground. The moon shines on it, making it glow eerily, making it look like a living, pulsing being crawling below my spot on one of the high floors of the castle.

"Do you and Jace have a thing?"

Isabelle's question is so sudden it actually shocks me, and I turn around to face her in repulsion.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "He's a monster."

She leans her hands back on the bed, tilting her head. "Maybe. But he's gorgeous."

"Outward beauty is nothing compared to what's inside. His soul is black," I say.

Black as the night.

Black as the devil's eyes.

"I've always been so curious, though," Isabelle says excitedly, and she's acting like a teenage girl. But the act isn't quite perfect. I still see the darkness underneath her beauty, not as powerful as Jace's, but still wrong. "I mean, you two have been fighting each other forever. And you've known each other so long…"

"I have never had…a 'thing,'" I say distastefully, the words sour in my mouth. "With Jace."

She shrugs, uncaring. "I was just wondering. I mean, he is awesome in the sack. You should try it sometime."

I feel nauseous. "Excuse me if I pass."

She laughs.

The door swings open suddenly, and Jace is standing there, wearing a thin white t-shirt that I could almost see through, to the tattoos on his chest and arms. His hair is messy, as if he's been running…or someone's been running their fingers through it, and he's smirking, as if he heard what Isabelle and I were talking about.

I'm sure superhuman hearing is one of his talents, and I sigh heavily.

"Feeling up to a trip, sweetheart?" he asks, jerking his chin at me.

"No," I say.

"Great. Wear something dressy. I'll be back for you momentarily." And with that vague parting, he's gone, and I'm left feeling horribly uneasy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Sorry about reposting the last chapter, if that confused anyone. A MAJOR typo was brought to my attention (thanks by the way, because that drives me crazy!), and I had to fix it. Anyway, this chapter isn't what I first envisioned for the "next" chapter, but Chapter 17 will be the one that I think y'all will love. I'll post it later tonight, so check back in. And please keep the reviews coming! Y'all are freaking awesome! (:**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

"No," I say, shaking my head firmly.

"But it's sexy," Isabelle argues, shaking the skimpy little gold number at me.

"I don't _want_ to look sexy," I reply.

"But Jace said to dress up—"

"I don't give a rat's ass what he said," I mutter, my own tone of voice shocking me. "I'm not wearing that."

"It's the only thing dressy in the closet," Isabelle protests.

"No, it's not—"

"Just wear it!" she exclaims, throwing it at me. It's barely a scrap of fabric, sequined with small golden beads almost the color of Jace's eyes-an ironic trait that isn't lost on me.

It's like nothing I've ever worn before, and I don't relish the idea of having to worry about showing my underwear all night. But I'm tired and I just want to get whatever Jace has planned out of the way. So I march to the bathroom and pull the dress on.

Before I can even look in the mirror and horrify myself with my lack of modesty, Isabelle is grabbing at me, slathering makeup on me and yanking at my hair. I let her do what she wants because I've passed the point of caring. I'm simply numb.

Isabelle spins me towards the mirror, and I take myself in dully.

My red hair has been piled messily and loosely on top of my head, tendrils falling down around my face. My eyes are smoky and golden, winged out with metallic eyeliner that makes me look cat-like. And the dress hugs me like a second skin, managing to give the allusions of the curves I used to have. There's a sheer panel over my collarbones, plunging down my chest dangerously low and wide.

I feel too exposed and tug nervously on the short hem.

"Don't," Isabelle admonishes. "You look great—much less…fresh-from-the-mental-hospital, you know?"

"I look like a prostitute."

"Like a high dollar prostitute—like a call girl! Not a bad thing," Isabelle says.

I sigh. "Thanks."

Isabelle laughs at me a little. "You really should lighten up, Clary. You look great, and you're going out somewhere nice."

"With a monster," I point out.

"He's not a monster," Isabelle says, and she says it so believably and soft, that for a brief half second, I might believe her. "He's just…trying to help his siblings out."

"He'll end the world for his own personal gain," I say.

"But he loves them."

"He's incapable of love. All demons are."

"But he's not really a demon," Isabelle reminds.

I don't argue any more with her. I can hear the reverent tone in her voice. I know she must love him, though I'm not sure why.

If you love someone enough, it's easy to make yourself see them in a good light. But it doesn't make it true. No amount of hopeful wishing or naïveté can change their ways.

* * *

Jace's hand falls against the small of my back, and he leans into me, his heat overwhelming me. "You look fucking hot."

I twist out of his reach, feeling my face heat and desperately hoping Isabelle's makeup hides it. "Don't say things like that."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he inquires, opening the passenger door to a very expensive looking foreign car.

"No, it pisses me off," I reply, carefully taking a seat in the vehicle, making sure to hold my dress down.

"Well, you never could take a compliment," Jace responds cheerily, shutting the door roughly and almost catching one of my feet.

We drive in relative silence. He continues to push buttons with me, but I ignore him artfully. I'm not in the mood to play his games.

"Aren't you even going to ask where we're going?" he inquires, glancing over at me. His window is down, blowing his curls all over the place.

"I didn't think you'd tell me even if I asked. So I'm not wasting my breath," I say, barely glancing at him. I instead train my eyes on the dark countryside.

"So you're going to act all cool now, huh?" Jace seems amused. I peep at him surreptitiously to see him lazily reclining his seat, his wrist casually tossed over the steering wheel—the picture of ease. "That's fine. I guess I'll just have to warm you up." He glances over at me, and he catches my eyes with his. A languid smile stretches over his face as he glances back at the road.

And I simply stay silent, somehow unable to be furious with him for his comment. I'm numb again.

* * *

"What is this?" I ask despite myself, squinting at the dirty looking building we've stopped in front of.

My feet ache from the walk we had to take after we found a parking space in the crowded city—the city whose name I don't even know—and the building we are in front of smells like urine.

This doesn't seem promising.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Cassia," Jace responds with a grin, opening the door and pushing me inside gently with his hand once again falling on the small of my back.

The change of scenery is immediate.

It's dark in the building, but not. Lights of neon and gold flash everywhere, in a disorienting dance. Loud, dark and passionate music pulses like a heartbeat, the vibrations running from my feet up to my chest. People are everywhere, clad in outfits that make me feel modest in comparison, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and perfume is overwhelming.

I feel sick.

"Name?" asks a tall, thick man standing beside a velvet rope.

Jace's response is lost to me in the loud club, but the bouncer's reaction is swift. He nods, points to something, and says, "She's in there."

Jace's hand is on my back again, and this time, I don't pull away. He's guiding me through the crowd, towards a balcony, which over the side one can see the mass of writhing dancers below. Jace and I go around the large room, staying above the swaying dancers, as we tread on suspended, railed walkways. I look out across the room to see cages dangling from the ceiling, women in provocative leather outfits dancing slowly inside them. I think they wear fangs. And then I wonder if maybe the fangs are real.

I shiver and look down at my feet, my mind starting to tilt.

Everything is too loud, too dark and bright at the same time. I feel the panic from the airport come back, increased ten fold. I'm a trembling, sweating mess when Jace finally stops us in front of a beaded curtain and pushes me inside.

The room is blessedly quieter, but still very dark, lit by black lights that turn things strange hues. I'm disoriented.

A flash of movement catches my eye, and I glance over to find a tall, slim woman crossing her mile long legs slowly as she looks at us, her eyes like a cat's in the dark of the room. Her hair is long and curled fashionably, her face beautiful and sharp as she leans towards us and smiles.

Her teeth are blue in the black light lit room.

"It's about time," she says coolly, leaning back again and showing off her barely-there dress.

Something about her is familiar. Familiar and maddening, not frightening, but something that angers me deeply. But something is wrong. Something says she shouldn't look like this now. She should look…old.

And then, when Jace speaks, I know. I remember her, remember everything about her and rage fills me.

"Jocelyn," he says.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Um, okay, so this STILL isn't the chapter I wanted y'all to see. I thought it would be, but I started writing it and realized it would have to be the next chapter. So I'm writing Chapter 18 now, and I will post it in an hour or so. It'll be my last hurrah before I go to bed and start school tomorrow and have no time to write! So please enjoy and review! (:**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

"You," I'm snarling.

Jocelyn's eyes go wide, her eyebrows arching in a lazy way, and the look is enough to set me off.

I lunge for her, something else taking over my body, the same rage I feel when I attack Jace. The movements of my arms and legs are graceful, even in anger, and they feel like memories. Like a ghost has taken over my body.

I get in two good punches before Jocelyn fights back.

We tumble into a table, and it breaks beneath us, glasses flying and shattering—the sound barely heard over the still loud pulse of music below.

Jocelyn is taller than I and stronger, but I'm winning. I'm winning because I'm faster. I'm smarter.

She knows this so she shoves me off of her and quickly stands, and with a neat arch of my back, I'm on my feet again, too. She swings her leg at me, hoping to clip me in the head, but I duck it almost as she's moving in slow motion, and I spin out, sweeping her legs out from under her. I'm on her again, hitting and punching and kneeing her.

She's trying to scratch me now, trying to pull my hair. Playing dirty. Fighting like a teenage girl in her first high school brawl.

And just as I'm about to hit her hard enough to jar at least one of her teeth loose, I feel large hands grab me at the waist and lift me effortlessly off of her.

I kick at the air, struggling in vain.

"Calm down, sweetheart," Jace is whispering in my ear, his breath hot on my already overheated skin. He sounds thoroughly amused, and that only fuels my rage. But eventually, his unwavering grip wears on me, and I sag a little, my anger draining quickly, leaving nothing but my own broken numbness behind.

Jace sits me back down, but his hold on my waist slips down to my hips and he squeezes once, his lips back at my ear. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are when you're angry?"

A little bit of rage resurfaces magically, and I use it to stomp harshly down on his foot and elbow him in the gut. He grunts, lets go of me, doubles over.

I slip away, turning to face him just as he straightens back out and gives a breathy chuckle, his eyes roaming over every inch of my too-exposed body. His gaze lingers slightly on my chest, and I look down, gasping softly and quickly fixing the neckline of my dress, which has gotten tugged askew, almost exposing myself to him.

Jocelyn is standing now, fixing her own dress as she glares harshly at me. Her hair is wild now, her face drawn tightly into a scowl. "Bitch."

I go for her again, only to be stopped by Jace.

"Now, ladies," he says, holding me back. "As highly entertaining and erotic as that was, we do have business to discuss."

"Tell that to the little slut over there," Jocelyn snaps.

I almost growl at her.

"Now, now. Let's not be unnecessarily rude, Jocelyn, especially since you just got your ass handed to you."

I smirk victoriously, and Jocelyn simply huffs.

"Fine," she says and goes to sit back down in one of the half-circle booths available.

Jace sits next to her, and I force myself to stiffly sit beside him, as far away as possible.

He stretches his arms out on the back of the booth, and the soft leather of his dark jacket brushes my neck. I don't like these casual touches, and I cringe away from him but he barely seems to notice as he says to Jocelyn, "Thank you for coming all this way."

"Well, England's lovely," she says, fixing her hair. "And I would travel across half the world to meet the infamous Jace Wayland, anyway." She smiles flirtatiously as she says this.

Jace smiles back in a similar manner. "Why thank you, Miss Fray."

I roll my eyes, the response lost in the darkness of the room.

"I've heard that you know the spell, the spell to open the door," Jace murmurs calmly.

"Then I'm sure you've also heard what I want in exchange for my knowledge," Jocelyn shoots back coolly.

A waitress suddenly appears and asks for drink orders. Jace and Jocelyn both shoot off two names I'm entirely unfamiliar with, and when the waitress looks at me for my order, I draw a blank.

But Jace cuts in, putting his arm around me and smiling charmingly for the blonde. "Nothing for her, honey. She's underage."

The blonde giggles as if he's hilarious and quickly flounces away, swaying her hips and looking back over her shoulder to see if Jace is watching.

I feel trapped in a horrible world where every girl is stupid enough to think he is wonderful, stupid enough to not see the ugly person inside his beautiful face.

I shake Jace's arm off impatiently, shooting him a warning glare, but he's not looking at me, instead watching the waitress's rear end. But he is smirking.

Then he turns back to Jocelyn casually and says, "I know what you want. Power, immortality. Although from the looks of you, you're aging pretty damn good."

Jocelyn smiles, a sultry smile. "I have my ways, a few spells that I can do to keep my youthful appearance, but I cannot forever depend on them to keep me alive. I want to be Turned—and to be Turned by you."

_Spells._

She's a witch?

_No, _the voices answer me, appearing out of nowhere

Not like me?

_No_, they say. _Her power is not natural. It's dark. She uses darkness, demonic energy-not like you._

Then what is she?

_Lost._

Jace shifts, digging in his pocket. I see the flash of a slim silver chain around his neck, as he does so. And then he's got a pack of cigarettes, doling himself out one of the little white sticks. "Is that so? You like the idea of being an animal?"

"I like the idea of you biting me." Jocelyn then widens her eyes in mock innocence. "To Turn me, of course."

Jace's lighting the cigarette now, cupping his hand around it and looking up at her from beneath his lashes. He exhales a cloud of smoke on a laugh, and says, "Well, I do believe that can be arranged."

Jocelyn's lips pull into a wan smile. "Excellent. I ask that you Turn me first, and I will give you the information you seek after."

"You don't trust me?" he asks sweetly, pulling the cigarette from his lips and arching his brows.

"I've been around long enough to find out that trusting people only winds up hurting you in the end," Jocelyn says.

"Well, I don't see a problem with Turning you first." Jace takes a drag off his cigarette and adds, "Just know that I can kill you, if you don't give me what I want, even if you are Turned."

"I know," Jocelyn says calmly, unperturbed. "But I'll give you what you want, don't worry. I'll give you everything you want."

Jace's smile is slow. "That's quite a hefty claim there. I hope you can back it up."

Before Jocelyn can respond, the waitress is back with our drinks. She smells much more strongly of perfume now, and I roll my eyes at her complete lack of subtly.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asks, and she only looks at Jace.

I fix my eyes on a spot across the room, sickened already by whatever flirty conversation will ensue. My tolerance for sexual innuendo has been depleted over the last ten minutes.

"A dance," Jace says.

The girl perks up but quickly looks unsure. "I don't know. I might get fired if my boss catches me."

Jace doesn't fall for the bait. "Ah, well. Another time then."

The girl, obviously deflated, quickly back tracks. "It's all right. I just…I just won't let him catch me."

"That's the spirit," Jace says before murmuring to me a sickly pleasant "excuse me."

I scoot out of the booth to let him out, and as he grabs the waitress by the waist, he turns to Jocelyn and says, "Make sure little Clary here doesn't run off, will you?"

We glare at each other in response, so Jace leans into me a little and whispers so only I can hear, "Play nice," before he's escorting the giggly blonde out of the room, to the dance floor, and I watch him go with my arms crossed, a scowl on my face.

* * *

**Ok! Next chapter will be the fun chapter! (; Finally.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: FINALLY! I told y'all I'd get this posted! Anyway, this chapter was fun to write, even though I swear I've never written anything like it before. It has me a bit embarrassed... so, yeah. I thought it turned out all right, but y'all tell me what y'all think. If you don't particularly like a lil' smut, skip over this chapter. It really has no purpose except smuttiness! (:**

**Also, if y'all want to know what my inspiration was for the chapter, it was The Doors' _Crystal Ship_ song. That song is amazing, and actually, it's kind of the inspiration for the whole story! So if you wanna feel all trippy, listen to that song!**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Memories of Jocelyn float back to me, memories of her nasty remarks and her possessiveness over Luke—my protector and mentor—and her manipulation of him. The manipulation he was too stupid to see.

In the end, Jocelyn left him, and he got killed by Jace, though I vaguely remember his death. It was horrible, and the vision of his heart being ripped savagely out of his chest is dimmed with darkness, as if my mind is trying to prevent me from seeing the gory details.

I inhale deeply, the smell of thick smoke permeating the air. The smoke smells funny, makes my head funny—or funnier than usual. I'm not sure if there is a fog machine in the building or my mind is just getting hazy.

I glance over at Jocelyn, who is pointedly ignoring me and sipping her drink, and then I walk away from her, because I can't stand to be near her any longer.

She quickly pipes up. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out of this room," I reply, not looking back at her. But then I pause and turn slightly towards her, a familiar challenging smile sliding over my lips. It's been so long since I've smiled that my cheeks feel tight, but the motion itself feels as though it's been made a thousand times before. "Going to stop me?"

Jocelyn knows she can't beat me in a fight, so she simply huffs and inspects her nails. "Don't go too far. I've heard Jace is an excellent tracker."

I know this to be true. I have no intentions of running. It would be futile, and the voices, who have been roused by the mere mention of the R word, quiet again as they see my resolve to stick through to the end.

I suppose I can always kill myself if Jace manages to force my hand.

I've tried to before.

_Cuts. Cuts on my wrists. Blood everywhere. Metallic. Sharp. Cold. It makes my stomach roll. And then I'm getting sleepy, and the voices are going soft and I think _yes. _I think_ finally._ But then I hear the screams, the screams of Aunt Maryse. And then I know I've failed. _

_That I will live on._

_When I just want to die._

_I just want it to be quiet in my head._

_I just want silence._

I shake myself free of the memory and drift onto the suspended walkway, peering into the crowd of moaning, churning, grinding dancers below.

I see a flash of gold, and I know it is Jace. He stands out amongst everyone else, a shimmer of otherworldly essence in a crowd of simplicity. He's different, and you can tell, even from a distance. His movements are different, predatory and graceful and strong, and his beauty is different, too, too great to be normal.

The girl he's with is gorgeous for a human, but she pales in comparison to him. And I'm shocked to find myself bothered by this. I think she doesn't look right with him, doesn't move as perfectly or look as stunning.

There's another girl by him now, her hands running over him. And then another girl and another, like moths to a flame, ready to be burnt out by something beyond their understanding.

Jace is in the center of the dance floor now, a light spot amongst a mass of darkness. But he's at home in the darkness, in the shadow. That is where he thrives now.

His gold eyes look up, find mine somehow throughout the hundreds of people, and the action sends something down my spine, something like shock and…

My head is hazy.

His eyes are swirling, smoldering with desire as the girls press against him in shameless passion, as he continues staring at me.

The music slows dramatically, becoming sleepy and hypnotic and psychedelic. My eyelids droop, the voices in my head becoming muted through the thick fog in my mind.

Someone's singing with the song, and the voice is lulling at the same time it sparks a fire inside me, inside everyone who hears it. It's impossible to ignore, impossible to quit, like a drug.

Jace's eyes are still locked with mine, and I begin to feel the heat from his gaze, all the way up here. I feel it run down my body and settle in my stomach.

Or maybe that's the music.

The music is strange…

Familiar.

I can't think.

The blonde waitress has her back turned towards Jace, and she grinds her body back on him erotically. His eyes flutter a few times in pleasure, but he never drops my gaze. I see his hands slip over her stomach, see one hand slip between her legs, under her skirt, and she really moves now, her face covered by her hair as she tilts forward, as if unable to stand on her own.

It should disgust me, to know what he's doing to her, right in public for everyone to see—for me to see—but I feel nothing but my own desire, which I had thought lay dormant inside me, erupt into flames.

And I am burning.

Apparently, so is the blonde girl. And just as she shakes in his arms, he pulls the sweaty hair away from her neck. His eyes still on mine, he flashes a smile with fangs, and then bites into the pale column of her throat, his golden head bent.

Suddenly, I'm falling.

My body sails through the empty air like a stone, but I can't find it in myself to scream. I just fall, no thoughts in my mind, just colors.

Instead of the violent collision with the floor that will end my life, I land into someone's arms. Hot arms. Strong arms.

I know whose arms they are.

"If you wanted to come down and dance with me, you could have just taken the stairs like a normal person," Jace says into my ear as he sits me down. His hands skim up my bare legs as he does so.

I glance up at him, reminded of how tall he is, and his cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly stained red from blood, the artery at his neck pulsing wildly.

Alive.

He's alive in moments like this, both very human and very not.

My head is thick. My body feels uncontrollable, and too hot.

"Dance with me," Jace murmurs into my temple. His lips almost brush my skin.

Do I want to?  
There's no answer.

I ask again.

Should I?  
And again, no answer.

I want to. I want to dance with him.

_Okay_.

"Okay," I say aloud, and Jace is pulling me into the masses.

Something buzzes impatiently in my head, like an angry wasp, but the wasp is caught in a cloud of repellant and its furious buzzing is slowed a bit.

Jace has me turned around now, facing away from him. Then his hands are on my hips, rocking my body to the sultry song, rocking my body back against his. I think I hear him groan.

Or maybe it's me?

The buzzing gets louder in my head, more insistent. It begs me to listen.

But I can't.

Why won't it go away?

Jace's hands are reaching around me, brushing my falling hair off my collarbones before tracing them. And they slide lower, over my breasts, but he doesn't pause long enough to give me any satisfaction. Just enough to tease me.

The buzzing is getting louder.

His hands smooth down over my stomach, stopping and pressing against me just where my insides are burning the hottest, and then they slip lower.

The buzzing won't be denied.

His hands are brushing over my thighs now, tickling the bare skin below the hem of my dress. They slide back up, this time under the fabric.

The buzzing suddenly forms a sentence, the voice of many speaking all at once in a shout loud enough to penetrate the cloud of intoxication.

_STOP! Not part of the plan!_

The words jolt me, and before Jace's hands go any higher, I shove them off roughly. I stumble forward, without him to hold me up, and he grabs for my arm.

"Don't touch me," I warn, my voice slow and distorted in my own ears. The lights flashing above me suddenly are too bright. The music is too loud. The air is too hot.

I'm going to be sick.

I think I say this aloud because a girl next to me quickly skids out of the way. And then I'm pushing through the crowd, leaving Jace behind, and I make it outside the club just in time to throw up in a dark alley.

And I am ashamed.

* * *

**What do y'all think? I'm still slightly embarrassed about this chapter. I've never written smut before, so please tell me how I did! But go easy on me! Haha**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all! First day of classes is done, and I don't have any homework! Woo-hoo! So I'll probably update twice today, maybe three times depending on what comes up. Anyway, this chapter was super fun to write because there's a reveal at the end that I've known for a while now and couldn't wait to share with everyone. So read up! And review! (: Thanks!**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

I'm conscious, but I can't open my eyes yet. I can't find them. My head pounds, and for once, it's not due to the voices.

I feel like I'm at the bottom of the ocean, where it is dark and cold, and I'm desperately trying to swim my way up, to break the surface. But I keep getting turned around. The darkness is everywhere and confusingly all the same.

I'm starting to panic now.

But then there's a light touch on my arm, and I can suddenly feel my body and find my eyes, and I gasp awake, sitting straight up, my heart pounding out of my chest.

"Whoa." Isabelle sits on the corner of my bed again, looking at me with big eyes. "Having a bad dream or something?"

I look down at myself, at the clingy golden dress I still wear that is wrinkled and twisted up around me. My hair is in my peripheral, wild and untamable, stiff with old hairspray.

I press my fingers into my temples, trying to stop the pounding. "What happened?" I ask.

Flashes of the night before slice into my head.

Lights.

Music.

Dancing.

Did I dance?

I can't remember.

I can't remember much of anything, and it makes my head hurt even worse to try.

"You puked your guts up in an alley and then passed out," Isabelle replies, shrugging her shoulders. "Jace says you do that quite often."

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"Because Jace said there was a siren singing at the club. Our voices are like a drug—intoxicating—and they're also like alcohol—something that lowers inhibitions. It makes it easy for us to get our prey." Isabelle explains this as if explaining to me the mechanics of a car—simple and cool. She doesn't find anything wrong with it.

I shiver despite myself. "So I won't remember what happened?"

"You might. In bits and pieces," Isabelle says, inspecting her nails.

"How did we get back here?"

"Jace found you outside, carried you back to the car, and drove home, I guess. He didn't really say, just dumped you and told me to watch you."

"Do you always do what he says?" I inquire hoarsely.

Isabelle simply looks at me, as if I'm stupid, for the longest time before glancing back at her nails and saying, "Everyone does what he says."

* * *

After I've taken a bath and gotten dressed in something slightly less provocative, I feel better. Physically.

Mentally, my mind aches.

The voices groan and mumble, a little angry with me for getting caught up in the siren's spell.

I'm angry with myself.

For more than the siren's spell, but I can't remember.

Isabelle is bored, so she insists on playing checkers with me. I'm awful at board games, and she beats me repeatedly, so much so that it's no longer even fun for her to brag.

I'm restless, just like she is.

I don't want to be in this room all day. I'm tired of being in rooms all day, locked inside them.

_They_ are tired, too, I bet.

I shift uncomfortably on the bed, wishing I could explore the castle I got a glimpse of when I left yesterday. Jace had taken me down a stone hallway, narrow but tall, and then down a spiraling staircase. And we'd been outside, just like that—hardly much scenery.

And then, in an ironic twist that makes me think I never should have wished for anything, Jace appears inside the room, looking fairly satisfied by something.

There's an extra cocky swagger about him today, an extra evil glint in his eye. His hair is messy, as if he's just woken up, but he looks very awake.

Frighteningly awake.

"You look terrible," he says to me by way of greeting. He's cheery, and that scares me.

"Oh, go easy on her," Isabelle says breezily. "She's had a hard night of partying."

"That she has," Jace murmurs with a frustrating little smirk as he glances at me. The look he gives is brief but says everything.

A memory tickles my mind, and before I can grab hold to it, the voices rise up in my head, shouting over each other until their voices become a loud cacophony that threatens to split my skull.

"Isabelle, I'm relinquishing you from your babysitting duties. I'm going to give Cassia a tour of the place."

Isabelle looks relieved. "Great," she says, hopping up and dashing out of the room in a swirl of brightly colors skirts and fabrics, leaving me to face Jace and his strange looks alone.

* * *

"This is the library."

My eyes go wide despite myself.

The room is huge with a tall, soaring ceiling. The walls are gray stone, as well as the floors, just like the rest of the castle, but instead of being covered by blood red tapestries and curtains, this room is bare except for a few oak tables and chairs. And books. Hundreds and hundreds of books, of all colors and shapes and sizes.

I feel my lips part in awe.

"What do you think?" Jace asks with a slight chuckle as he glances down at me. "Pretty nice, huh?"

I quickly recover myself, unwilling to let him see anything but cold indifference. "It's nice," I say.

"I thought you might like it. Seeing as how it's just the way you left it." Jace says this casually as he leans over one of the wooden tables and peruses an open book there.

I look over at him sharply. "The way I left it? I've been here before?"

"You lived here. Once upon a time." Jace glances up at me from underneath his lashes, a small smirk dancing around on his lips. "Your whole family did."

"How… I mean, why do you have it now? _Is_ it yours? Or do you just watch after it?" I splutter, looking around the room at things in a whole new light.

"It's mine. I let Isabelle and the others watch after it when I'm away. I've been in America for a few decades now, but I come back here every once in a while. For a very special reason."

His voice turns dark at the end, and I force myself to meet his eyes. "And what reason is that?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you that just yet," Jace replies coolly, looking back down at the book. "You'll know eventually."

I open my mouth to ask more questions, unsatisfied with his vagueness and frightened by the sudden silence of the voices, but before I can get a single word out, a familiar voice cuts in.

"There you are."

Jace and I both turn to Jocelyn, who is wearing nothing but an oversized gray t-shirt. She's not one bit embarrassed by it as she saunters up to Jace and produces a white slip of paper that's been folded in half. She offers it with a smile, "My end of the bargain. The spell, as promised."

Jace grins at her and plucks the sheet of paper from her fingers. He leans down towards her, his face almost touching hers, as he replies, "Thank you."

"And thank you," she says, and when she tilts her head, her hair parts enough for me to see the angry bite mark marring the pale skin of her neck. "For everything. I had fun."

I can only imagine what she's referring to, and I feel sick.

Jace simply smiles but offers no reply. He reaches out, touches the bite mark he's no doubt left in the process of Turning her, and then his hand smoothes down until it rests on her shoulder. His gaze catches hers. "If this spell doesn't work, if you're lying to me," he murmurs softly, almost hypnotically as both his hands move to grip the sides of her neck. He leans into her again, his lips brushing hers as he says, "I'll kill you."

Jocelyn pales at this, her sultry smiles and batting eyelashes dust in the wind at his cold, gently spoken words. "It…i-it'll work," she says, a stutter in her voice that is very foreign, to both her and me, I'm sure.

"It better." Jace smiles in mock sadness before turning his lips to her ear. "For your sake." Then he lets go of her, steps back as if her touch burns, and he glances at the spell she's written down for him. "Get out," he says simply, without heart or emotion as he jerks his chin towards the door. He doesn't even look at her as he says, "Max will drive you back to the city."

Jocelyn's lips part, her eyebrows pulling together.

I remember how arrogant she used to be. The men loved her, and she knew it. She was manipulative and calculating, working her charms to her advantage no matter who got in the way—and Luke had been one of them.

Seeing her crushed like this, rejected in such an easy way by Jace, gives me satisfaction and I smile, the first real smile I've felt in ages.

Jocelyn waits a few heartbeats, as if she thinks Jace will say something else, maybe ask her to stay, but he doesn't.

He simply glances up at her and arches his brows. "What are you still standing here for? I said leave. I'm not going to say it again."

Jocelyn's mouth opens and closes twice, and I'm barely managing to hide my smile. She huffs and says, "Fine," before spinning on her heel and marching towards the door. But then she slows, stops, turns around. There's a nasty light in her eye, a conniving light—showing her true colors. "But you should know one thing."

"And what's that?" Jace asks disinterestedly, still glancing over the spell she's given him.

"Your precious little Clary?" Jocelyn arches a brow.

Something in me shifts, and the voices start murmuring, a low, anxious sounds that sets me on edge. I'm teetering, hanging on the precipice of a steep cliff, waiting to be shoved off.

Jocelyn does the shoving. "She has to die in order for the spell to be complete."

I topple over the cliff.

"She has to die for good," Jocelyn adds.

And then I'm falling.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: This chapter is super short and a little upsetting, I guess! But I plan to update a few more times, maybe just one more time tonight. So...enjoy and review! Thanks, y'all! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Jocelyn's gone, and the room is silent.

Deathly silent.

I see myself stabbing a sword into my stomach, breaking my own neck, jumping off an impossibly high building—dying thousands of times over the years. But there's never any fear when I do these things. I know I will come back.

My eyes are fixed on the bookshelf across the room, and I can't look at Jace. I can't see his expression, whether it's indifferent or surprised or even confused. I can't stand to see it.

The voices are quiet, strangely still—no whispers, no murmurs. I might think they are stunned, as stunned as I am, but they are in my head and I know how they feel. They aren't stunned. They're just being silent.

I'm too upset to care why.

"Huh," Jace says simply.

I spin towards him, my rage boiling up hot inside me, making my vision blur. "Bastard," I hiss.

Jace's eyebrows arch quickly, his hands going up in mock surrender. "Jocelyn's probably just being a conniving bitch. She does that pretty good."

"She wouldn't lie to you," I say. "She's too afraid of you."

Jace's mouth opens, but he says nothing.

Because he knows I'm right.

_This is part of the plan_.

The voices speak up suddenly, filling my head.

There is a moment of silence from me, as if my mind has shut down. And then the emotions erupt.

Disbelief.

Shock.

Horror.

"Part of the plan?" I scream, aloud.

It makes Jace's eyebrows arch, but I don't care. I only listen for the voices' response.

_Yes. Part of the plan. _

_The last sacrifice. _

_You die._

_Forever._

_The world is safe._

_Forever._

_You can change the spell before it is enacted._

_You can save everyone._

_You can finally be._

_At._

_Peace._

"You knew this whole time?" I cry, pressing my hands into my temples and squatting to the floor because the emotions are too much, the sense of responsibility the voices push on me versus the fear of dying.

Of being forever gone.

"I thought you were on my side!" I accuse them, tears running down my face. "I thought you wanted to help me!"

_We're here to help mankind. _

_We're here to help the world._

_You wanted it that way._

"What? What do you mean?" I demand, pulling at my hair. "What do you mean? You don't tell me anything! You're just stupid voices in my head! You aren't even real! Just shut up! Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"Jesus Christ, Clary." It's the first time Jace's said my real name, the first time that we've been alone and he isn't just saying it for show. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You! You're what's wrong with me!" I accuse. I'm standing now, shoving at his chest. He stumbles back a little, maybe because I've caught him off guard or maybe because he feels bad for me. I'm not sure. I don't care. I just keep shoving. "You bastard! You're a bastard! A monster! You've done this! You're an abomination! You and your siblings, and you've ruined all my lives. You cause me pain—you kill my loved ones! I _hate_ you!"

Jace takes it, takes my pathetic beating against his chest without so much as a flinch. He lets me hit and scream until my arms are tired and my throat is sore.

And then I take in a shuddering breath that almost makes me vomit.

And then it's quiet.

The voices are quiet, and I'm quiet.

But there's no peace.

I find that I'm leaning against Jace's chest. His thin white t-shirt does nothing to trap the heat radiating from his body. His hands are around my wrists, either restraining me from hitting him anymore or holding me up, I'm not sure.

I see through teary eyes the dark ink against his skin, showing through the flimsy material of his shirt. But as usual, I can't make out what they are pictures of. And this time, I don't care.

I inhale deeply once, Jace's spicy smell filling my nose, and if I close my eyes and ignore the unnatural heat of his body, I would feel comforted. His smell _is_ comforting, as well as his strong body holding my frail one up. We are almost hugging, and I realize with a shock that I miss hugging. I miss family. I miss love. I miss someone just touching my hand and smiling at me.

But Jace is not the person I should take comfort from. He's the one that's put me in this position.

So I try to pull away from him. His grip on my wrists doesn't tighten but it doesn't loosen either, even as I tug. I look up at him through watery eyes and say brokenly, "Let go."

He doesn't have anything smart to say, for once, and he just does as I ask.

I sniff loudly, wiping at my nose. I'm hollow. Empty. Unsure.

"I'm going to the conservatory," I say, remembering the room from the tour Jace had been giving me. It seems like a calm room, a quiet room. A room where I can be alone. Can think. Can sort.

Jace opens his mouth to respond.

But I interrupt him. "I'm not going to run away. I know you could find me anyway, no matter where I go." I look at him hardly, as hard as one can with a tear-stained face. "I'm going. And you're not going to stop me."

And with that, I walk out of the room.

And Jace doesn't stop me.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: All righty. Here's one update. I'll be updating in like two minutes again because I already have the next chapter written. So stick around! And here I thought I wasn't going to get any writing done! I love when inspiration strikes! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

The conservatory has been added to the castle. It used to not be here, or so Jace had said.

But standing in the middle of it, watching the sunset flash against the glass of the walls and roof, the smell of the earth surrounding me, I'm glad it was added.

I sit down in an old iron chair. It's been warmed by the sun, and I melt into it.

The sun is just starting to dip, and the clouds have broken up into small wisps, finally parting to let the sky turn brilliant pink before it is dark.

I close my eyes, because I'm ready. I'm ready to talk with them.

What are you?

_Your protection. Your guidance for when you stumble._

What happened to my human protector—Starkweather?

_Killed. _

By Jace?

_No. Car crash. A mundane accident. These things happen from time to time. The Starkweathers are not immortal nor indestructible nor do they come back to life once dead._

Why not?

_Your gift to be reborn is an exception to the rule, Cassia. You were given the gift because it was needed. But no one should live forever. This is the way of things. We were not powerful enough to give you indestructibility, nor could we give you the gift of eternal life because it went against our creed. The Starkweathers could not be given the same gifts as you, however, because they were merely human. They were only entrusted with information._

You keep saying we. You keep saying that _you_ gave me the powers I have. What do you mean?

There's only a slight hesitation before they answer.

_We're you're ancestors, Cassia._

My gasp sharply cuts through the room.

"What?" I ask aloud.

_When the Waylands let the evil overtake them, the village erupted into chaos. There was bloodshed, violence. The Waylands, unaccustomed to their power, destroyed everything in their path. They Turned some, killed others, and took their time, for the sport-for the thrill. They decimated the entire population of the town. You were there. You tried to stop them. You did stop the demon from escaping. But you were overwhelmed. You stole back to the castle, to your family—to us. There, we planned._

A memory comes to me, and I think they give it to me…because the memory is not through my eyes. I see myself, in a torn dress, stained in blood, tears in my eyes. I'm hysterical, crying and screaming and trying to tell everyone what has happened.

_You thought you'd failed everyone by not stopping the Waylands. They were friends of yours—you were even very close to their father. When we decided to lock the siblings up to keep them from destroying the entire world, you volunteered to be the human key—the only way to bind a spell so big is to use a person's essence. You took it upon yourself to guard the door, to stop them from ever being unleashed._

Why are you in my mind now? Talking to me?

_Because Starkweather was killed. Because we are drawing to the end of this story, Cassia. The time of your never-ending life cycles are up. We have spent the last centuries searching, thinking, hoping, praying. We have found a way to kill the siblings—once and for all, no more games._

But…how are you still alive?

_We aren't. We are only ghosts, spirits granted the ability to stay in the Otherworld, to find a way to stop this evil from being unleashed in the world. When our job is done, we will all be set free._

So you haven't always been in my head?

_No._

Why did I go so crazy?

_We were unaware of how an unsuspecting mind would react to our presence. We almost lost you. Ironically, it was Jace Wayland that helped us talk to you clearly, without the haze of drugs in your mind._

What about the missing time in my memory, when I was a child?

_We don't know. We were not with you yet. You were still just a child, with Jordan Starkweather before his accident._

I inhale deeply, stretching my neck to release the tension there. It doesn't work.

What's the plan to end the Four?

_When Jace begins to the spell to unlock the door, we will tell you the exact steps to take to change it. In the end, we will bind you to the demon that first gave the Four's power. Then, when Jace kills you to unlock the door, he will also kill the demon. And then they will all die._

I inhale.

Hundreds of images of stabbings flash through my mind. I remember it's a painful way to die, slow if you don't hit the right spot. Once, I hit my lung, punctured it, and I suffocated on my own blood. It spewed out of my mouth, and the last thing I had tasted was the metallic heat of my own blood.

I shiver.

_You will save the world, Cassia. It's what you wanted. It's what you've always wanted._

My own memories try to sift through to me, because I'm digging for them. I want to remember my time in the village that was destroyed. I want to remember things on my own, from my own point of view, but it's like the old movies in my mind are hitting a wall that's impenetrable.

I give up.

And then I trust in the voices.

Because they are part of me.

Because they cannot lie to me since they are in my own head.

So I say, aloud, with a heavy heart but the slow building feeling of purpose echoing inside me, "Okay. I'll do it."

My voice seems to ring in the conservatory, and when I open my eyes, the sky is dark, the sun gone.

The plants around me start closing up for the night.

And there's no reason to be here anymore.

* * *

I drift, drift throughout the huge castle. Had I been a little girl, I would have ran up all the steps, all the spiral staircases, peeped into all the seemingly hundreds of rooms, and pretended to be a princess locked away in the tower, waiting for rescue from her prince.

But my prince won't come. I don't have one.

I just have a villain, a villain set on my death.

There will be no hero to save me.

I find myself in the library again. Jace is thankfully gone, and the candles are glowing throughout the room, giving it a golden, smoky haze that's comforting somehow.

I make my way to the bookshelves and pluck out an old classic, a fairy-tale book so that I may get lost in it.

As I read, my head gets blessedly heavy and I think for the first time in what feels like years that I will be able to simply go to sleep on my own—not being knocked out or passed out.

And then, just as I ready myself to make my way back to the bedroom, I hear a rustle behind me.

I frown and lift up, turning slightly.

There's nothing there, in the flickering shadow cast by the candles. It appears to the eye that I'm alone in the great room.

But the tight feeling in my stomach, the cool chill in the air that lifts the hair on my neck, make me think otherwise.

A flash of darkness shoots in front of me, blowing my hair back.

I'm standing up now, in a panic, my book crashing from my lap to the floor in a loud clatter. "Who's there?" I demand.

A demonic chuckle echoes through the air like a ghost's teasing.

I squint into the shadows, looking for a darker spot in the inky black. I find nothing.

The wisp of movement flies by me again, this time stinging my hand.

I gasp and look down at my palm, at the small cut that oozes crimson. My eyes flash back to my surroundings, my heart pounding. "Who's—?"

"Hello."

I bite back a scream and spin towards a tall man, a tall man with dark silken hair tumbling into his slate gray eyes. He's striking in a cold and angular way, his face a bit too sharp and delicate to be considered beautiful.

"What do you want?" I snap, backing up. My hand searches for a weapon to use behind me because he is not human. He is not _right_.

He flashes me a smile, and his fangs are elongating, his eyes turning from gray to crimson flame. "You," he hisses, his voice barely human. His face is changing now, too, turning into something so hideously ugly that I think no true demon could ever outmatch him. Without his mask, he's ungodly to look upon.

They all are.

I grope blindly for something—anything—and I touch the corner of a thick book. It's in my hand, and I'm swinging, clipping him in the temple.

But this does nothing to hurt him.

Instead, it only angers him.

And as he advances on me, I wonder if I should just let him kill me. But that would be for nothing. And I can't die yet.

I don't want to.

I don't want to die.

But then he's lunging at me, and I wonder if I have a choice in the matter.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Okay... I don't know if this will be the last update or not. If it isn't, y'all will see the next chapter (Chapter 23) in the next few minutes. I'm really sleepy right now, and I'm sucking at proof-reading even more so than usual so I don't know if I want to risk a bunch of typos. Anyway, we'll see if I can't get woken up. So enjoy! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

I'm suddenly on the ground. I'm screaming, but the sound is barely noticeable against the pounding of my heart, the rushing of my blood in my ears. I kick and bite and claw until I'm free enough to crawl away.

But just as I go to get up, I feel an ice cold hand on my ankle, effectively dragging me back and flipping me so that I only see a painted ceiling above-one I didn't know existed until now. It's of angels in demons, clashing together in a violent maelstrom that turns my blood to ice.

This must have been Jace's addition to the library.

"Your blood will taste so good," the vampire suddenly hisses, mostly to himself, I think.

I brave a look at him, where he is crouched over my legs, and I feel tears in my eyes because he's just like the monsters out of my old dreams, the dreams that aren't dreams.

His skin is dead white, his fangs visible. They are needle thin, deadly and invasive. His eyes are completely, wholly black now—a glimpse of the soul inside him. There's nothing beautiful about him, nothing even slightly admirable in the artistic sense. He's pure evil, pure monster—no sight of humanity or heart in the contorted lines of his face.

He grips my leg, twisting it sharply enough to make me cry out. I reach for him, ready to pull his hair, but he simply grasps both of my wrists before I can even blink—and he does so without looking, holding them so tightly I feel the bones groan in protest.

And then he's groaning, too, because he has his nose pressed into my inner thigh, where my femoral artery pulses. I'm horrified but useless against his demonic strength. Not even the rush of adrenaline singing in my veins can save me now.

I've never felt so helpless and afraid, not even when I was in the mental hospital and they would drug me and imprison me in the room with no windows.

I lay my head back against the floor and close my eyes, no longer wanting to see the battle overheard. I tense, readying myself as best as possible for the pain.

When it comes, it's blinding.

Painful.

Terrible.

_Excruciating_.

It's not the provocative and pleasure-inducing event depicted in movies and books I've read—it's just awful in every sense of the word.

Fire.

It burns.

Burning hot.

They'll light the world on fire, won't they?

Yes—if you let them out.

They will make the world burn.

Why?

Evil. Revenge. Hatred.

I have to stop them. I have to kill them.

The world can't burn.

Not because of them...

My eyes roll back, my mind becoming fuzzy. The pain continues but dulls slightly, and I feel my thoughts go quieter and quieter, as if I'm getting out of range. Things go hazy and wispy, half-thoughts floating towards me through the sea of darkness I am sinking into.

It's cold but I'm not scared anymore.

Things are different now. I know once I get to the bottom of the dark waters that I will see light. I want to see light, good light—not evil light, the light of a raging fire and the screams of innocents echoing in my ears.

And then, for the first time since I can remember, my thoughts are silent. There's nothing—no shouts, no memories, no monsters. There's just blissful, glorious silence. And I'm so at peace, a peace so all-powerful that I have no thoughts to express it.

Silence.

Beautiful silence.

And then it's shattered into a million pieces, the thoughts rushing back, everything in my head screaming at once—flashes of fangs and vampires and devil eyes flipping through my mind like a picture book.

I gasp and sit up, my heart pounding, adrenaline once again shooting through my limbs at the thoughts roaring in my head.

I'm just in time to see Jace holding the vampire's head between his hands. It almost looks as if he's embracing an old friend, if it weren't for the swirling of his eyes and growling erupting from his chest.

"I'm sorry!" the vampire cries, flailing his arms but not trying to break free of Jace's hold. He seems to know better, that fighting will only make it worse. "Please. I'm sorry. I didn't know—I didn't know she was the one—"

Jace's hands jerk once, a quick blink of movement, and I hear the sickening crunch. The vampire drops to the ground, the life out of his eyes, his neck twisted, his face pointing out the wrong way.

I stare at the limp body dully.

Jace's growls lesson until he's simply standing there, staring down at the dead body with fathomless eyes. He looks like an avenging angel, all golden skin and curls, towering above the body of an evil creature with black eyes and white skin.

But he's not an angel. He only looks like one.

He's just as evil as the vampire, only in a different way.

Jace's head lifts like a wolf's might when the wind shifts and brings with it the scent of humans. He looks over at me, down my pale face to my leg, which is lying awkwardly, blood pulsing from the crescent bite marks on my thigh. Jace's jaw feathers, and his nostrils flare.

I sit deathly quiet, unsure of what to say. I cannot bring myself to thank him for saving my life. He's only spared it to release his siblings, not through any concern of my well being.

"Don't move," he orders, walking briskly out of view.

I listen to him for once, not out of obedient loyalty to him but because my mind is beginning to turn hazy again, the rush of adrenaline gone, leaving me with black edges to my vision.

Jace is in front of me, as if summoned, and I jump a bit in surprise. He's squatting, then lifting me up and sitting me on the edge of the library table. There's a first aid kit in his hands.

This strikes me as hilarious, and I'm suddenly laughing, laughing wildly. Jace has just killed someone with his bare hands, has hurt me multiple times, threatened my life, and taken lives viciously, and yet here he is, with a first aid kit to bandage my wounds.

He gives me a strange look, the looks Aline used to get from the orderlies when she said bunnies were aliens sent to spy on us.

And then Jace reaches for my leg. Immediately, I press my thighs together, keeping him from touching me. I feel the blood smear against my other leg, and I feel a little sick.

Jace glares. "Let me stitch it and bandage it before you bleed out."

I shake my head. "No," I say firmly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think that was a _suggestion_?" Jace's eyebrows arch lazily in the perfect mimic of sarcasm. But I can see the irritation underneath his feigned humor. He's impatient, as always.

"I don't want you touching me," I say in response.

"We don't always get what we want, Cassia. You should know." He leans into me, his face inches from mine, and his eyes on fire. "Now let me stitch you up before I lose my temper."

"Bite me." The words are out of my mouth in a snap, before I even think of saying them. It feels familiar to say this to him, the cadence of my voice and the sarcastic snap of my tone.

"Don't tempt me," he shoots back automatically. But there's no real threat to his voice. Something has changed between us since Jocelyn's parting words, something unidentifiable.

Jace reaches down and grabs my legs, forcing them apart. I decide to let him at the last minute, because I do feel woozy. And there's no one else to stitch me up except a house full of things that feed on blood, which is a rather unwise suggestion, I think.

I expect Jace to be rough, to inflict as much pain as possible as he stitches me. But he's very careful, the way an artist might be as he paints a meticulous picture. His lips press together, his head bent very close to my gashed open leg. He quickly but cautiously pulls the needle in and out of my skin, closing the angry red half moons as he goes. Soon, the bite is completely sealed, no more blood escaping.

Then he begins to clean the wound. His touch with the burning alcohol is easy and light, soothing even, as the uncomfortable stinging hisses onto my exposed flesh. Then he's putting a few more things on the angry lines, things I have no names for. And finally comes the sticky bandage, which he presses onto my skin and smoothes out.

His hands feel rough and hot when they touch me, and each time our skin grazes, it begins to make me feel the urge to jump. And when his fingers ease over the edges of the bandage, making sure it is firmly pressed down, I bite my lip as my stomach tightens.

_ Hands._

_Large hands all over me, over every inch of me—grabbing, squeezing, caressing._

_ There's sweat, heat inside and out. _

_ Breathing comes in pants—in moans._

_ Glimpses of golden hair and eyes above me._

_ Hard muscles slick with perspiration, my nails clawing down his back._

_ He's above me, around me, all over me, inside me. _

_ There's pleasure. Pleasure and pain, the lines blur together._

_ It's too much. Too much contrasting emotion. _

_ I have to scream, so I do._

My breathing hitches in a slight gasp, and the sound is not lost on his ears. He looks up at me, from underneath his lashes like a shy boy might do. But he's not shy, and his mouth curls in a seductive, knowing grin.

My mouth opens and closes because I don't know what to say. If I did know, I still wouldn't be able to speak. I am too breathless from the memories, from the tingles I feel in strange places.

"Remembering something?" he asks, his voice almost a whisper but its deep and a little hoarse. His fingers, done with the bandage, don't retract but move up higher on my thigh, dancing in idle circles as he stares up at me.

I shake my head quickly, my whole body beginning to tremble slightly, except for the first time, it's not from fear. The tightness in my stomach is getting to be unbearable, unbearable and wonderful at the same time. I _ache_. I ache for something that I know is close by. I fight the urge to squeeze my legs together because I can't let him know what's wrong with me.

But he already does know. His smile, the darkening of his eyes tell me he knows. There's an energy oozing out of him now, an energy that matches my own.

Lust?  
Yes, that must be what it is.

We both feel it, and it's contaminating the room, the space around us, hiding the truth of everything and pressing in until I can barely breathe.

Jace's fingers slip even higher, dangerously close to a place no one has ever touched me before, and I'm tempted to let him be the first. I want to see what it'd feel like, how he could bring me pleasure like I knew he can. I have never even been kissed, and soon, I will be dead. I want to be alive in this way before I go. I can feel that I've been alive this way before, and the vague memories are so tempting yet ultimately unsatisfying—because they aren't here, in the now.

But this is Jace, and he is not right for this. He cannot be the one.

I stop his hand swiftly, grasping his wrist in a firm hold.

His eyes, which had hungrily and sleepily been watching his hand's progress, flicker back up to mine. They are smoldering, a lighter and hotter gold than I've ever seen before, burning so brightly that they have the brilliance of the sun. This is different than his anger.

A slow smiles slips across his face, and he looks like the boy that has got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

His hand twists in my hold, and he's the one gripping my wrist now. He raises it to his nose, the thin skin of my inner wrist pulsing blue, and he inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering close. "Mm," he hums.

I shiver, remembering what he's said in the past about smelling certain emotions. I know I must reek of sinful lust now, and I quickly pull my hand away from him, holding it to my chest.

He smiles and rises to his full height, turning his back to me and drifting over to the first aid kit. Putting things back in place.

Now that there is distance between us, my sanity comes rushing back, and I'm ashamed. Ashamed that I've let him touch me in such a manner with not one word of protest. But I am mostly ashamed of my memories. Had I given into his physical attraction before? Had I really been so desperate that I'd let him…let him…

My face flushes dark red, and the tightening in my stomach returns.

My body acts as if it's a separate entity from my mind, which screams its disapproval at my thoughts.

Had we really?  
Had we been together, in that way?

"In what way?"

I jump and look up at Jace, who is half turned to me with a slow grin as he produces a cigarette.

I've spoken aloud, and my curiosity overrides my embarrassment. I must know. I must know _why_. I will be dead soon and nothing will matter. "Have we…have we had…?" I can't seem to make myself say it. I'm much too timid on such matters.

"Have we had sex?" Jace is smiling in earnest now, fueled off my insecurity. He sticks the cigarette in his mouth and looks down at it as he lights it. He inhales deeply, blowing out a billowing cloud of smoke as he stretches the moment out until I'm fidgeting with nerves. And then, when he's satisfied than I'm nearly driven to the brink of insanity, he smiles and glances over at me. "Yeah," he announces calmly, offhandedly almost.

My jaw drops, but the surprise isn't so great. The memories of our time together felt too real to have been a mere figment of my imagination.

But then, his smile turns even more devious as he looks down at his drink and adds, "A lot more than once."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Went ahead and published it. If there are more typos than usual, I'm sorry! Anyway, please enjoy! (: And keep those reviews coming! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Why would I want to have sex with you?" I whisper, mostly to myself but I forget that Jace's hearing is superhuman.

He shrugs and exhales a cloud of smoke. "My ravishing good looks? My stunning intellect? My sharp wit? The list goes on."

I frown. "What's the real reason?"

"I'm injured," he replies.

I just stare at him, because today of all days, I cannot stand his joking.

He drifts closer, too close once again. His spicy scent envelops me. "Do you really want to know?" he inquires, a little playfully.

I swallow and nod, though I tell myself no on the inside.

"During the 1800's, I happened upon you as a child. It's rare I can find you when you're small, so I made the best of my advantage. I killed your Starkweather, and then stole you away. You were too little to realize what I'd done, and you grew up on a beautiful plantation home in Louisiana." Jace pauses to take a drag off his cigarette before continuing. His voice is low and slightly melodic, and it brings back memories I cannot quite remember. I feel as though I'm chasing ghosts through the darkness of my mind.

"I doted upon you," Jace murmurs with a dark smile. "As you got older, became a woman, I charmed you."

My heart starts beating faster.

"I was your whole world. You knew no one but me, and a few of my servants, a few people in town because of our occasional trips. You were completely impressionable to me, and I had decided to try a new tactic on you, seeing as how the centuries previous had been nothing but us running in circles, you refusing to help and me threatening everything you held dear to get you to change your mind. This time, I decided to make you fall in love with me. People do the silliest things when they are in love—the most horrible and atrocious things, things even criminals cringe at. I thought that if you loved me, you would help me."

Jace's eyes are slightly distant now, remembering. "It was the perfect plan really. It worked almost flawlessly.

"In those days, you courted swiftly and married young. That was what we did, only because you insisted. One of the older woman you befriended once in town was, ironically, a devout Catholic and had warned you against sexual dalliances before marriage, seeing as how you lived with me and we were not wed-quite scandalous." Jace smirks at that. "So, to appease you, to keep my plan moving along, we were wed." Jace's smirk widens. "And of course, to keep you from suspicion, I went along with the tradition of consummation on the wedding night."

I speak up with a snide remark to distract myself. "I'm sure you went along with a very heavy heart."

"Of course," Jace sighs, in mock sincerity. Then he smiles again, his eyes dropping down to his finger, watching as it glides over my collarbone, rising goosebumps on my skin. "You were so shy that night, a true blushing bride." He leans in, his nose at my neck. He inhales my scent. "So unsure but excited. So _pure_." Now his lips are at me ear, and when he speaks, his voice is low and hot. "But by the end of the night, you were screaming my name."

This sends a twinge of misguided desire into my stomach, and the sensation is enough to shock me into action. I shove at Jace's chest, pushing him back in time to catch his devious smirk.

"Stop," I warn. "I've already had heard enough shit today."

"You wanted to hear the story," he says, raising his hands in surrender. "I was just being hospitable."

"No," I say, shaking my head. It can't be true that I ever married this monster. How, even in my deceptive upbringing and my naivety could I have ever loved him enough to marry him? To have let him take my virginity?

Jace nods pleasantly. "Yes. Did you know that was your first time ever? In all your lives, even?"

I'm still shaking my head because I don't want to believe.

"We had sex quite often after that first night," Jace went on casually, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You were always so willing. And wild."

"Stop," I repeat, closing my eyes briefly. "Stop it! You're lying!" I accuse, glaring at him.

"I've never lied to you, Clary." Jace's eyes darken as he puts out his cigarette and abandons it. "I've always been honest about everything—my intentions, included."

"What are your intentions now, then?" I ask before I can think that I might not want to hear the answer.

Jace's whole face darkens now, shifts and turns until its something sinful to even gaze on. He's in front of me—close, close, close—and he leans into me, his lips at my ear as he growls hotly, almost angrily, "To take you to bed. To fuck you all night long until you scream my name like you did the first time we were together, like you've done every night since."

I'm so disoriented and so wanting that I panic. My knee jerks up, catching Jace right in the gut.

He groans and doubles over a little, and this gives me a small window of opportunity to gather my wits.

Did he just say those words?

Yes.

I haven't imagined them?

No.

My mind is in whirlwind, and for once, it is for a completely normal, teenage reason. It's unsettling.

Jace's groan turns into a breathy laugh, and it makes me shiver, not in fear. He looks up at me, still grasping at his stomach where I've hit him, and his eyes are burning hot, so bright that they are hard to look at. And when he blinks, the iris becomes reflective, like an animal's.

I gasp, and my legs squeeze together unconsciously before I can stop it.

He's on me in less than a second, his hand in my hair, yanking my head back. His lips are at my ear, his hot breath rasping against my skin. "Does that make you hot? Knowing how much I want you? Knowing how much I want to take you right now? It's been so long since I've had you…" His voice trails off as he moves his head, and then I feel his teeth—no, fangs—running down my neck, down my hammering pulse.

I bite my lip to keep quiet.

His free hand runs hotly down my exposed throat, to my collarbone, and lower still to my breast. He squeezes, and I feel blood in my mouth from where I've punctured my lower lip.

A moan manages to escape me.

"It'll be rough," he murmurs, his tongue tracing the path his teeth had earlier down my neck. "But you always liked it rough, didn't you?" He bites the place where my neck and shoulder meet, and it hurts but feels so could that I could cry.

My hands, acting on their own without my hazy mind's consent, are in his hair, digging through the soft and silken curls.

His head suddenly jerks up, and our faces are so close together, our mouths open and panting. His glowing eyes flicker down to where my lip is cut, and his tongue is on it, lapping at the blood slowly and then he's sucking at it sharply, greedy.

I pull at his hair violently, yanking his head back a little. His lips are red now, red with my blood, and his face is so beautiful that I run my fingers over it hungrily, run my fingers down his neck where I feel the furious heat of his skin and the pounding of his pulse beneath my fingertips.

Pounding because of me.

Because he wants me.

And I want him.

I want him to do everything he's promised, and the realization is horrifying. Horrifying and curious and wonderful, just like the way our faces are close again, the way we are like animals, moaning and groaning and panting and wanting, carnal and primal and beautifully wild.

And then everything is shattered and yet saved by a soft voice saying, deadly, "Sir?"

Jace's hands, which have fallen to my hips, squeeze tightly in aggravation and unfulfilled want. His growl rumbles in his chest before he snaps, "What?"

Max has appeared and barely takes note of his dead brethren on the ground, nor myself and Jace's provocative embrace. "Your friend is contacting you."

"He can wait," is Jace's angry response.

"He's insistent. He says it's urgent."

Jace's eyes close, his jaw feathering as he battles his desire. His fingers become painfully tight on my hips, leaving bruises, I'm sure, until he releases me with a groan. "Fine," he growls.

Max nods dully.

I feel Jace searching out my eyes, but I cannot meet his. I fix my gaze on the floor, refusing to look at him, but this doesn't stop him.

"This isn't over," he hisses into my ear before pushing away from me and disappearing with the vampire.

The room's new silence is broken by my rapid intake of breath, the breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.

And I wonder if this day could get any worse.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Okay, first of all, I wanted to thank all the reviewers that are so kind and sweet and tell me that they love the story or find it unique! I'm so glad and thrilled to hear this! It seriously does mean so much to me. Y'all don't even know! Secondly, I wanted to apologize for just now updating. I got back home from class, and I was sooooooooooo tired. Ugh. And I stared at the first line of this chapter for like thirty minutes straight because my mind was just fried. So I don't know how good this chapter will be. But I just had to write, A, because I love it and wanted to, and B, because I didn't want to leave you completely update-less! I might post once more. Don't get your hopes up, though! Depends on how much my over-worked brain can churn out! (; And thirdly, sorry the long note. I ramble when I'm tired! **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

The splash of cold water on my face doesn't help.

When I look in the mirror, my pupils are still dilated, my cheeks still flushed.

Flushed from my dream.

My dream of Jace and I, together, in bed.

My dream that isn't a dream.

A memory.

I slump against the sink slightly, trying to calm my breathing. The night has been a fitful mess of a hazy memories disguising themselves as dreams. Images alternating between fangs and blood to pleasure and sweat. Jace's on top of me, behind me, all around me in all the dreams. They seem to span decades, centuries even. And this frightens me because what he says was not a lie. We have been together, much more than once.

And the dreams also fill my body with tense, hot desire that wakes me up and makes me miserable. Miserable because there is no soothing this kind of ache.

I wipe my face with my shirt, stumbling back into my bedroom. But the bed doesn't look inviting to me. I've gotten too wound up.

So I go to the library, hoping for a slightly better outcome than last time.

The vampire Jace killed is gone, thankfully, and the great room is empty, silent.

I read for a long time, on high alert for any sounds. I read until the sun is shooting through the windows, warming me, and then on until it is finally dark and I'm cool again.

The day has been suspiciously quiet.

No voices. No Jace. No Isabelle. No blood-thirsty vampires.

It's almost been a nice day, I think, if the shadow of death hadn't been over me.

I put my book down and inhale deeply, trying to dispel the nerves that twist in my gut. The thought that I will be dead soon—truly dead—is terrifying. Hopeless. Unfathomable.

I feel the urgent rush of impending doom. The rush to do something. Do to things I've never done before. To go to Paris. To see the Louvre. To laugh. To have fun. To fall in love. To truly _live_.

I want to do all these things.

But I know I can't.

I know my days are numbered, and every passing moment is a moment I won't get back.

There's a clock ticking down inside my head.

Slow.

Maddening.

Horrifying.

* * *

As I drag myself back to my room, I feel a presence behind me in the torch-lit hall. I don't turn, because I somehow know.

I know before he wraps his heavy, hot arm around me, before he whispers into my ear, "I've been looking for you." I'm not sure how I know. I just do.

Before I can even speak, I'm against the wall, Jace's arms resting my head, trapping me. His face is too close, his spicy scent too strong.

I'm overwhelmed by him already.

"Where've you been?" he asks, dipping his head slightly. His nose skims across my cheekbone, leaving fire behind.

"I…in the library," I say, resisting the sudden urge I have to place my hands on his sides, maybe slip them under his t-shirt, to feel the burning hot, smooth golden skin I know is underneath.

"Where are you going now?" His voice is dripping indecency, making a simple, innocent question into something else entirely. His face is pressing into my neck now, inhaling my scent. I feel him nip at my pounding artery.

I jump and gasp, everything twisting. "I…I was…to my room," I manage. My hands are in his hair, and it isn't until I feel his silken curls slipping between my fingers that I realize what I have done.

My easily broken resolve is, ironically, what brings me to my senses, and I'm pushing at him while adding, "And no. You can't come."

"We can always go to my room," he offers with a half smile, his burning hot eyes on his fingers as they trace my collarbones before flickering up to meet mine from underneath his lashes, a look that makes my stomach tighten. "You haven't been to my room yet."

"I'm not going anywhere that Jocelyn has been, whoring around with you," I snap, and the tone of hatred in my voice surprises me.

"I didn't screw her in there," he returns, shaking his head. "I don't take girls like her to my room."

"If that was supposed to be romantic, you need help," I say, pushing past him and beginning the march to my room again.

"You never were one for romantic mushy bullshit," Jace replies easily, jogging to keep up. "One of the things I like about you so much."

I jerk to a halt, glaring at him with pure rage seething from my soul. "You're a bastard."

"You've mentioned that once or twice," he says.

I start walking away from him again, shaking my head in disbelief. My short legs are no match for his, though, and he keeps pace easily.

"Playing up the cold shoulder now, are you?" Jace inquires lightly, but I hear the irritation underneath. "Feeling ashamed?" He reaches out, grabs my arm, forces me towards him as he whispers into my ear hotly, "Does it make you feel dirty?"

I slap the smirk right off his face, literally, and his eyes flash angry gold as I say, "Don't play these games with me, Jace. You're going to kill me soon. Do you really think I'm going to lay down with you knowing that? Do you think I'm going to open my legs to you when you've killed people I've loved?"

Jace's in my face, his temper flaring like the glow in his eyes. He retorts nastily, "Well, you have before. Excuse me if I don't know when your pointless sense of morality gets hold of you. You certainly didn't seem to be protesting much last night."

"That's because I was upset! And sick with blood loss!" I shoot back, my cheeks turning red. I tell myself it's because of anger. But I wonder if it's not from something else.

Jace gives a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah, right. You tell yourself that. Whatever helps you feel like the better person, sweetheart."

"I _am_ the better person! I don't kill people!"

"You _killed_ my father!"

The hastily thrown-out words echo, and the fire inside me is suddenly doused, like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on the flame of my rage and left nothing but smoke behind.

Jace's own eyes cool, become brandy colored once more. He looks briefly upset, at himself, and I see why.

Because as he said that, in the heat of the moment, he showed vulnerability.

Hurt.

Anger.

Betrayal?

This last word seems to feel right, but it doesn't fit our story, does it? Why would be feel betrayed by me? Because I was close to his father? Because I had a crush on him?

"I…I what?" I whisper, my voice hitching.

Jace's nostrils flare once, his lips pressing into a razor sharp line. I don't think he wants to tell me, but he does anyway. "You killed him. You killed my father the night…the night we Changed."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because the pact he'd made with the demon—the pact dealing with the demon's freedom for our immortality—was bound with him. If you killed my father, you prevented the demon from entering the human world because the pact was null and void." Jace's eyes flash hatred for me. "You didn't even hesitate. I saw you draw the blade through him yourself, him _begging_ for his life."

The image comes back to me as his words surround me. It's hazy, distorted, as if seen through a film. Something tries hard not to let me see, a block in my mind, but I get around it through sheer force of will.

And I see.

I see my hands holding a cool blade. I see a tall, handsome man with dark blond hair in front of me, holding his arms out. Tears are in his eyes, mania in his face. He's become a shadow of a once great man.

Possessed.

Possessed by the darkness.

By the power.

By the idea of life.

Forever.

_Can't you see?_ he asks, arching his eyebrows and motioning to the barn around us, to the destruction his children have left behind, to the glowing wall of light, hellfire sputtering inside. Something groaning behind it, growling, ready to be set free on the world.

Just to watch it burn.

_It's beautiful, isn't it?_ he murmurs. _My children will live forever. Never dying, never aging—powerful. It's perfect. It's the perfect thing._

He's not looking at me now, instead looking at the portal into Hell. The flames flicker in his eyes dangerously, and he smiles, as if seeing the pearly gates of Heaven.

I hope he sees the gates of Heaven.

Even after all he's done.

That's my only consolation.

The only way I can press the knife into his heart. It cuts straight through, hitting the target perfectly.

He gasps, tears forming in his eyes, which flash to me in confusion.

And then he's gone.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: DON'T KILL ME FOR THIS SUPER SHORT CHAPTER PLEASE! (: I'll update again tonight to keep y'all happy, I promise. I just had to make this chapter short because the next chapter would be too long, like ten pages in Word or something. So, that was obviously out of the question! My OCD strikes again!(: This is still an important chapter, though, y'all, so don't skip it 'cause it's short!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

I'm back in the present now, back to Jace and his century-old rage.

We stare at each other silently because I am not sure what to say.

What can I say?

I don't know.

Jace breaks our eye contact first, looking to the right. His jaw feathers. "I'll be gone for the next few days," he finally says, still refusing to look at me.

My voice is gravely when I ask, "Where are you going?"

"To get some more obscure ingredients for the spell. Interestingly enough, rat intestines are not commonly stocked by Wal-Mart."

His stab at humor falls on deaf ears. I've gotten hung up on the word "spell." He had yet to confirm the fears I know are valid. But he just has. He's just said that he is going through with it, not that I ever had any doubt, but it is still sickening to hear. The rush of panic makes a new appearance.

"Isabelle will watch over you, but you have free reign of the castle," Jace goes on hollowly. "I've gotten rid of all the sirens and vampires and werewolves—or whatever you want to call our pets. So you'll be safe from harm by them."

I stay silent, my heart pounding.

Then Jace's eyes meet mine with great reluctance, and he says, "I'll see you in a week."

I open my mouth, maybe to return the stiff parting, but what comes out is entirely different. "You really are going to kill me." And I hate the way my voice quakes and whispers with broken emotion. I sound like I did at the mental hospital.

Hopeless.

And I am hopeless.

But maybe I haven't always been.

Maybe I won't always be.

"Yes," Jace says coolly, deadly.

I blink back tears and look down at my feet, to keep him from seeing this embarrassing display of fear. "I'll really be dead."

Jace doesn't pause. "Everyone dies, Clary." And then he starts walking away, away from me and off to find the things that will be used in my own sacrifice.

_Your _last _sacrifice_, the voices urge, as if they think this will soothe the terror of true death.

My mind works, and at the last minute, right before Jace cuts the corner and disappears from view, I call out, "Not you."

And then Jace hesitates. He stops, thinks, frowns slightly. He looks over at me, meeting my eyes, and agrees, "Not me."

And I might hear a note of sadness.

Of hopelessness.

Like me.

* * *

**REVIEW! Pretty please? I'd be forever grateful! (:**


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: Ohhhhh, guys! We're getting closer to the grand conclusion! At least, I hope it's grand. We still have quite a few chapters to go, though. I just thought I'd get that out. **

**Unfortunately, this chapter lacks a certain gorgeous golden-haired boy, but it was necessary. And the next few chapters...well, let's just say y'all will get a lot of Jace the next few chapters! (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge!) Anyway, enjoy the last update for the night. More tomorrow! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Are you afraid?" Isabelle asks. "Or are you just relieved? You know, fighting for so long and everything…"

I have my legs pulled up to my chest in one of the iron chairs in the conservatory. Isabelle sits with me, watching the rain pouring down around us, and she's brought us tea, which smells heavenly but I haven't brought myself to drink.

"I'm afraid," I say. I feel no need to lie, no need to hide anymore. I will be dead in a week, and it won't matter what anyone thinks of me then.

"Are you mad…at Jace, I mean?"

"How could I not be?" I ask, but my question is at odds with my flat tone.

"He's only doing this for his siblings, you know. He misses them," Isabelle says. I see her shift in her chair, stretching out her long, slim legs in front of her. "They were very close, from what I've heard. When they were human, of course."

"He doesn't love anyone enough to miss them, Isabelle. Don't be so foolish as to think differently," I reply, glancing over at her for the first time in over an hour.

She looks down at her shirt, picks at its hem—an usually hesitant and bashful move from her. Her pale cheeks flush with rising blood.

And it clicks in place.

"You love him, don't you? Deeply?"

She sighs and her blush turns darker. "He found me…after his sister Turned me. He helped me. He took me in, let me live here and do as I please. I've been all over the world, spent time everywhere—seen everything. It's been a good life. And it's because of him."

"He's…he's evil, Isabelle."

"Then I am, too." She shrugs and meets my eyes. "You forget I kill people, too. I've killed my fair share. But it's a lonely life—or it can be. Jace has always been there."

"To let you share his bed with him?" I ask grumpily, crossing my arms for warmth as I turn my gaze back to the rainy conservatory walls.

"We fuck, sure. But it's more than that… he's my…he's my friend. And believe it or not, that's hard to come by, us being what we are and all." Isabelle tucks her hair behind her ears and adds, rather darkly, "Besides, I long ago gave up any romantic intentions with him besides the physical necessities. He's too hung up on you for that."

"Me?" I demand.

She nods and says, casually, "He's always been in love with you, Clary. I can't tell how many times he's said your name in his sleep or moaned your name when we're screwing. It used to bother me—it doesn't so much anymore."

"Just because he wants me for sex doesn't mean anything. He likes a challenge—and that's what I am. He doesn't…he doesn't _love_ me," I almost laugh, shaking my head.

"He loves you as much as one of our kind can love. I never _loved_ him, not even when I imagined being with him forever—as a significant other. None of us love each other, not particularly. The demon part of us keeps that at bay. But where there's a demon part, there's also a human part, however small."

"The demon part burns out humanity," I argue.

"No, that's the funny thing about humanity. Even with all odds stacked against it, it always seems to find a way of holding on. I can find mine sometimes, if I search for it hard enough. It's like…like a pinprick of light in a heart of darkness. It can't even be destroyed."

She pauses, and then adds, softly, "But it can be lost."

_And anything lost can be found._

The voice is not mine.

But it is.

It's my voice, my voice from hundreds of years, thousands of broken hearts and disappointments, ago.

It seems important, meaningful and powerful.

But there's a block in my mind once again and this time, I don't have the will to push through it.

* * *

The days pass in a blur.

I have nothing to do, nothing exciting, nothing that one should be doing when living through the last week of their life—no bungee jumping, shopping sprees, spontaneous trips. I am instead locked in an old, dreary castle covered in endless rain. A castle that I used to live in, that I was born in. The castle that I will now die in.

I stop sleeping.

The dreams become too much.

They are fragmented and strange, and I can't remember them once I've woken. They feel real but very old, the oldest. I often try to push past the strange barrier in my mind, to view them again when I'm conscious, but I cannot.

The dreams continue, though, as if trying to tell me something.

Trying to warn me.

I can't shake the feeling.

The feeling that I'm missing something.

That I've forgotten something crucial.

I've forgotten because I was made to forget.

The memories have been hidden from me. Not by me. By something else.

I ask the voices about it, but they ignore me. They are too busy planning, making sure that the plan goes off without a hitch—that I die and so do Jace and all his siblings.

My time is running out, closer and closer. My window of opportunity to discover what I am missing is rapidly disappearing.

I don't know if I will ever know.

* * *

She's standing outside, on the cliff behind the castle.

She wears a long white fluttering dress. And this is odd because she doesn't like dresses. She doesn't wear dresses. She doesn't wear dresses _now_.

Peering down, she sees the steep drop, but it doesn't frighten her. She thinks of stepping off of it, dropping like a stone, crashing into the rocks and water below. Her head would crack open like a melon, and bright ruby blood would spread like paint over the rocks, into the water.

She can picture it, her body mangled and her white dress stained. She imagines the water pulling her remains away, taking her out to sea into the cool and quiet waters.

She will be back, though.

But this is not how it will be.

She will fall off the cliff, and she will be gone forever, not out drifting in the seat, waiting to be swept up and saved. She will just be gone.

She's sad.

So many things she wanted to have not been done. So many things she wanted to say have not been said. So many things…

She closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and then there's a man beside her. He's not a man she immediately recognizes, but he is familiar.

Only, he's changed.

He's aged.

The dark hair is no longer swishy and long, but cut in a respectable way for a middle-aged man. His face is a little worn, his wrinkles more prominent.

She notes the changes with a sense of awe. It has been a long time since she had seen anyone in her life age, nonetheless to see herself age.

The longest she'd ever made it was to twenty-five.

Jace had killed her that time.

"Who are you?" she asks the man.

He tilts his head. "You don't remember me?"

"No."

Yes.

Maybe.

Everything is jumbled.

"I'm Jordan," he says. "I'm—"

He breaks off as he fades, like a ghost, like dust blowing in the sudden gust of wind she feels pull at her hair and her dress.

The sky is gray, darker and darker until it is almost black.

The rain starts falling, pelting her like tiny ice pricks against her skin.

The waves below roar loudly, crashing against the shore hopelessly in the strong winds.

Jordan fades in and out, struggling. His words come in unintelligible spurts.

Her heart starts pumping, her mind starts fading. She's leaving. She's being drawn away…

So is Jordan.

But not before he says, not before he gets one word out.

"Starkweather."

* * *

**What y'all think 'bout that?! (: Let me know! REVIEW! (:**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: Oh, guys. I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. I'm fighting writer's block and extreme tiredness. Classes are kicking my butt! Whew! But this weekend, I might be able to finish this story up. Maybe. I don't know yet. This chapter is kinda weird. I don't know... I'm just kinda tired and ramble-y. So enjoy and let me know what you think about it! Oh, and by the way, the outpouring of reviews is SOOOOOO amazing! Thank y'all! (:**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Thunder clashes so loudly outside that it rattles in my chest as I sit up and scream.

I'm shivering but covered in sweat, my head pounding with the dream I've just had but cannot remember. It was something…something about a dress…and a cliff?

Did I fall?

I might have.

And then, as the shock of my dream wears off, a new wave of terror feels me as I look up and see the dark shadow standing at the side of my bed.

I'm sure it's a vampire that's defied Jace's orders and come back to finish me off. Until lightening flashes outside, illuminating reflective golden eyes.

I quickly move, turning the small oil lamp I have beside my bed up to its highest flame.

The room is bathed in a warm glow as the storm rages outside, the storm Jace was apparently caught in.

He's drenched, his golden curls weighed down with the water, dripping down onto his forehead, running down the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the hollows beneath them. Some water droplets cling to his lips, and I wonder what they would taste like.

I shake myself free of that thought and ask, "What are you doing here?" I'm embarrassed and shaken and I pull the red comforter up tighter to my chest, aware that I'm only in my bra and panties, finally having decided against wearing any of the night lingerie in the closet.

"I was…I was just…just…" Jace's voice is surprisingly quiet and hesitant. He motions around himself in a way that's almost awkward, if it was anyone else but him. He rubs at the back of his neck before meeting my eyes and clearing his throat. "I heard you scream. I thought something was wrong."

The words sound hollow, slightly disoriented.

Everything about him his disoriented, and it surprises me. Makes me curious. And disbelieving.

Jace seems to notice this, and he asks, rather quickly, "Having a bad dream?"

I nod slowly, staring up at him with my sheet clutched to my chest.

There's a stillness between us, a stillness that has never been there before—in all our lives. I wonder if Jace might be thinking of what his life will be without a goal. For so long, he's been after me, to get his siblings free, to get revenge for his father's death. I think it must be an empty feeling, to fight for something for centuries and then finally have it in your grasp.

What do you do then?

And I think I might feel bad for him.

Maybe it's his distant silence, his lack of arrogance, the openness of his eyes tonight. Whatever it is, it reminds me of something. Old memories flutter past my conscious mind, just out of reach, but I think he might be the most human in this moment than he's been in a thousand years.

"Did you get everything you needed?" I whisper carefully, my heart squeezing in pain and fear.

"Not everything." Jace clears his throat again and looks down at his feet briefly. "I couldn't find everything."

"It'll be a few days, then? Before…before I…" I can't bring myself to say it aloud, when we are here and it is so quiet. When we are not in an argument. It feels too real tonight to say it aloud.

The clock in my head starts ticking faster.

"Yeah, a few days. Maybe another week," Jace says. He pushes his damp curls out of his eyes. "I've got people all over the world getting the things we need."  
"I see," I murmur, looking down at my hands. They are pale, small. Frail.

Before I know it, I'm taking in a shuddering breath. And the sound alone is enough.

I start crying, hot tears falling down my cheeks. Broken sobs. Shaking shoulders. Fear welling inside me. Sickness in my gut.

Death over my head, hanging like a cloud.

I'm scared.

I say this aloud, on an exhale of breath that makes my whole body tremble.

"Jesus," Jace says quietly, and I don't know his tone as he says it. I don't have time to dissect it or to care about it.

I'm just helpless.

I feel the bed dip slightly behind me, and I choke on a sob as I feel Jace's heat on my back. I still, my tears halting briefly in face of his closeness, his spicy scent filling my nose, his warmth heating my cold body.

His arms wrap around me, and I think maybe he's trying to comfort me. But he's doing something else. Something even better.

His wrist flashes in front of my face, and there is blood there, an open cut oozing crimson. He holds it to my lips, a silent question that I answer without much hesitation.

Because I am tried.

Because I want sleep.

I want escape.

At least for a few hours.

So I close my mouth around the cut and suck. His blood is thick, honey and golden. It's heavenly, almost, and it's ironic, considering what he is.

I keep drinking, even when I think I've most likely had enough, because I can't _get_ enough. My hands come up, holding his arm to my face greedily, my body starting to heat unnaturally.

Then I feel Jace pressing his chest against my back, feel his chin rest on my shoulder. He groans slightly, softly into my neck, and I'm shivering because it feels good. It feels good drinking his blood, and it feels good to know he feels good, too.

My heart is hammering heavily, and I think Jace must be able to feel it through my back. My vision is becoming colorful, even with my eyes closed. His groans become more frequent, his pressing against me more forceful.

Hot desire is suddenly rushing in me to, contrasting with the heavy feeling of drowsiness starting to appear. They fight, tooth and nail.

I'm squeezing my legs together to get some relief at the same time I want to go to sleep.

I'm in a haze, a haze of lust and sleepiness and confusion.

And then Jace's whispering in my ear, his voice dark and controlled, but with a quavering note of wanting beneath. "That's enough, sweetheart. You won't wake up for a week."  
I reluctantly let go of his cut, and there's still a little blood growing from the increasingly diminishing wound. So I lick at it, wanting no drop wasted.

"Fuck," Jace hisses in my ear, pulling me back against him harder, his lips suddenly on my neck, biting, kissing.

But the blood is in full effect now, finally winning the battle again desire, and my head tilts forward heavily.

And then I feel Jace's hold on me loosen a little, and he's pulling me back, lying me down and pulling the covers over my tightly. I know I feel his fingers brush against my cheek. I think I feel his lips press into my forehead.

And I think I might hear him say, "Goodnight, Clary," before I'm pulled down into the darkness of my mind.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all. Last update of the night. Sorry I leave this chapter on a slight cliff-hanger, but I'm too sleepy to write the next chapter, during which I need to be wide awake to write properly. I might not update again until Saturday because I have class tomorrow and then I get to go to the movies (seeing _The Conjuring_, which I hope is as scary as everyone says). So I'm sorry! But enjoy this chapter and let me know y'all's thoughts on what's going to happen, in the grand scheme of things. I'd like to hear y'all's opinions! Thanks! (: Oh, and one more thing. This is chapter is probably FILLED with typos. I'm sorry. I'm too sleepy to find mistakes tonight. Forgive me.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

My eyes flutter open to a surprisingly bright room.

My head is not heavy but rested, my eyes not gritty.

I have had no dreams, no memories—just sleep.

And I remember why, slowly, the soft haze of sleep fading into reality, and I quickly look around, to find Jace.

And when I don't, there's a slight pang.

I sit up slowly, rubbing at my face.

The day is beautiful, for once. All blue endless skies and rolling green hills I can see out of my windows. I want to be outside, to be in it. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the whisper of the breeze pulling through my hair.

The dreams of seeing everything I want to see before I die have faded, leaving only a strong desire to enjoy everything, every little moment, before I go.

I find a decently modest summer dress in my wardrobe, and then I'm walking through the castle halls, the halls I try to remember as I go.

I think I feel a sense of déjà vu, and I see certain places that I think I might have played as a child. But nothing is concrete. It's as if that part of my life has been blocked off entirely, left only to my imagination.

It concerns me briefly.

But then I wonder if it really matters I remember.

"Thinking of running?"

The familiar drawling voice pulls me out of my reverie.

I turn from the place I sit on top of the cliff, listening to the waters crash repeatedly against the rock below. I see Jace sauntering up to me calmly, as if the previous night had never happened.

But it did happen.

I remember it.

I'm not that crazy.

"No," I say, finally.

"Thinking of jumping? Sparing yourself a few decades?" he inquires, and though he seems playful, something more serious is simmering underneath as he lies down beside me, propped on his elbow.

"No," I repeat, turning to face the horizon, where the gray-blue of the ocean meets the pure blue of the sky. I inhale the smell of the sea deeply, closing my eyes and savoring it.

Trying to savor everything.

"So you're not afraid anymore?" Jace asks quietly as he picks at blades of grass idly.

I smile slightly at the acknowledgment of our previous night. And then I think of when I was drinking his blood, of how I felt. How wonderfully carefree I felt. I think of what might have happened had I not fallen asleep. I think of that experience, the one I have not had in this life, and I wonder about it.

"I'm afraid," I answer him slowly, still looking at the horizon. "I'm just trying to enjoy everything now."  
Jace is quiet for a long time before I feel his warm fingers slowly trace up my arm. "Everything?"

I look down at him, at his surprisingly open face as he stares up at me, his golden eyes warm like the honey of his blood. His curls flutter in the breeze from the ocean, constantly falling into his eyes, and he looks human then, human and very young because of it.

I know my answer is important, so I can't say anything. I simply look back off into the distance and think of something suddenly. "If we were married in the 1800's, are we still legally married now?"

"Well," Jace sighs. "You've died a few times since then. I don't think that's something they usually account for in the law."

"If we are," I say, smiling slightly and looking down at him. "I want a divorce."

He actually laughs.

And this feels strange.

Strange and familiar.

What does it mean?

I don't know.

"You wound me, my heart," he says dramatically.

And just like that, I'm joking with my soon-be murder.

Everything changes, I suppose, when you have a death sentence.

"You've always loved that book," Jace comments.

We sit in the library now, the day slowly dwindling away. The room is filled with hot, golden light illuminating the swirls of dust that sparkle like glitter in the air.

Jace dangles his legs over the side of a small bookcase, sits atop it with a strange light in his eyes as he watches me read the book on fairy tales that I seem so fascinated with.

Fascinated for good reason, it would seem.

"Were we very close when we lived in the same area?" I inquire softly, glancing up at him.

This day has been strange. Everything is off kilter. I don't understand it, don't understand why Jace's presence has suddenly become slightly more comforting and much less terrifying. It feels weird…old, but weird.

Jace is looking at the windows now, his face turned towards the light. It makes his hair and eyes shimmer with otherworldly beauty. He looks like an angel, filled with light that shoots out of him like sunbeams.

"I don't remember," he murmurs, a frown crossing his face as he glances back at me. "I can't remember."

I cock my head, curious, but I don't push. Instead, I say, "What happened to me the lifetime when I married you in the 1800's? What happened when I found out that you'd lied to me?"

Jace's face closes off slightly, and I have no idea what his silence means. He finally begins talking, his voice subdued. "You killed yourself—when you found out. But it wasn't like…it wasn't like usual, when you'd kill yourself to escape. That time…that time you killed yourself because you really did want to die."  
His words trigger the memories.

The grief.

The betrayal.

The heartbreak.

It was unearthly, the amount of pain I'd felt. It was the pain one felt when they were deceived by someone they truly, deeply loved.

I had loved him then. But why? Was he truly that good of an actor that he could fool me into believing he was good? Or was I just that naïve?

Or was there something good in him after all?

I shake my head, because these kinds of thoughts will get me nowhere. The facts remain that in a few days, we will both be dead and gone and the world will be a better place because of it.

Humans can go on fighting each other, killing each other, destroying their world. At least it will be their choice, their own doing. At least it will not be an element they could never be expected to fight against.

I stand up, ready to put my book back in its place and retire for the evening, and I as I turn my back and reach for the shelf, I feel Jace behind me.

He's everywhere all at once, with no warning, his hands gripping my waist, holding me against him, his face in my hair, his nose inhaling my scent.

My reaction is startlingly immediate, the pounding of my heart and the tightening of my stomach. My body remembers this, remembers the sudden, hard and rough way he used to take me, but never against my will, I remember. He'd never done anything I hadn't agreed to.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

I'm too overwhelmed by him now, by his scent and his heat and his words as he whispers hotly into my ear, "Let me take you to bed. Let me show you how good it feels." His hands move down, smoothing over my hips rather gently before he grips me roughly, slamming me back against his body.

The book I'm holding drops out of my hand, clatters to the floor, but the sound is absent in my ears, only Jace's words and quick breaths.

"Let me fuck you, Clary," he says simply, but his voice is so thick with desire, so full of longing, that I tremble once.

Our bodies stay relatively still after this, suspended, waiting.

He's waiting for my response.

I'm waiting for my own decision.

Both of us are breathing hard now, our bodies vibrating slightly as we try to force their cooperation in being immovable. But physically, we both want what we want. The air is filled with our lust, our desire to be together in this way.

And I want to be with him in this way.

Because I want to experience it.

I want to live it before I die.

I want to feel pleasure, for once in my life.

And I want to feel that pleasure with Jace, because I know he will give it to me, because he has before.

So I say, my voice only slightly shaking as I do so, "Okay."

And the word seems to echo in the room.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: Oh, y'all. I AM SO SORRY. I'm the meanest person ever to leave y'all hanging like that and then never respond. But trust me when I say, it wasn't just because I felt like it. I really was planning on updating the day after I posted Chapter 28. But I have had the most horrible personal problems going on in my life right now. I struggle with confidence stuff, not being confident enough and all that, and it's just been a hard week. I'm trying to get over it! Be strong and all that. Praying a lot. So forth. But y'all really don't want to know about that! I know y'all don't! SOOOOOO...here is my next chapter. Not a detailed lemon. And it's very lame, I think. But it's the best I can do because I've never written one before. So don't have high expectations. But there will be some more lemons, hopefully better ones, later on. Trust me. I was just dealing with a little writer's block tonight, too, but I wanted to update y'all and also get this chapter out of the way. So...here ya go! **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When I wake, I keep my eyes shut. I bask in my body's contentment, in the warm glow I feel over my skin. There's a darkness seeping in at the corner of my mind, a warning. The voices are trying to break through the haze of pleasure in my mind, trying to share their discontentment with my choices.

But I'm not ready yet.

I crack open my eyes, blinking against the golden sun that pours into my room. I stretch and wince a little, because I am sore. It's a kind of sore I've never been before, but it's not uncomfortable.

My arm stretches out, expecting to find warmth and smooth skin, but it only slips over cold sheets.

I sit up quickly, looking over.

The bed is empty.

Jace isn't here.

Was he ever?  
Did I dream it?

I shift again, feel the soreness in my legs, _between_ my legs, and it reminds what happened was real.

* * *

_The trip to my room goes by in a blur. We are just suddenly here, without my realizing it._

_ I'm nervous now._

_ I'm afraid of Jace in a way I've never been before._

_ But my body hums slightly, excited. _

_ Because it knows. It _remembers_ what is coming._

_ Jace's behind me, running his hot hands down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I'm trembling now._

_ He pulls my hair away from my neck, kisses down my pulsing artery slowly, taking his time, letting the desire in the air build until its oppressive, filling the room and urging us to move._

_ I relax a bit, my back curving towards him, a sigh of relief rushing forth from my lungs because I've wanted his touch. I wouldn't admit it normally, but now, in the soft candle light of my room, with Jace being so gentle, I can admit that I've ached for this. That my body is aching right now._

_ And Jace knows this. He feels my little surrender, and I'm suddenly being spun towards him. And he's kissing me, his lips hot and demanding against mine. There's nothing gentle about him now. He's all strength and heat. His hands gripping me, his mouth moving almost angrily against mine, as if he wants to devour me, as if he's angered that I've denied him for so long now._

_ The surge of passion would usually frighten me off, but instead, Jace's spark lights me on fire. I'm pressing against him, kissing him just as roughly as he does me. _

_ And it's wonderful._

_ Amazing._

_ Wrong but delicious._

_ Animalistic._

_ There's a crash as my feet leave the ground, and I realize a moment later that Jace has sat me atop the bedside table and knocked over a heavy jewelry box. It's empty as it opens up against the stone._

_ I feel Jace's hands inching up my sides, peeling up my shirt as they go. His hands are searing against my bare skin, leaving a trail of glowing fire behind as they go. And then my shirt is gone, and his lips are skimming down over my collarbones, down the top of my bra._

_ His right hand is in my hair, jerking my head back almost painfully. His left is edging between my closed knees, pulling them apart. And then he's stepped between them, and he's pressing his left hand into the small of my back, shoving our bodies up against each other roughly so they fit almost perfectly._

_ That's when I first feel him—hard against me._

_ It feels like it's described in books, but not._

_ He pushes his hips up against mine, and it feels so unearthly good, so unearthly maddening that I press back against him, whimpering. _

_ My stomach clenches, every muscle in my body tightening._

_ Jace's lips are against mine, his breath hot against my mouth as he talks. "Do you like that, sweetheart?" he asks, surprisingly soft despite the harsh way he shoves his hips back against me._

_ My legs tighten around his waist, squeezing me closer to him. I'm squirming, my eyes shut tightly as I seek some form of relief. _

_ This feeling is driving me crazy. Crazier than usual. I _need_ him to do something more, to stop this playfulness and get down to it. _

_ And when I tighten my legs again and roll against him, he groans out a "fuck" before he's picking me up again. _

_ I'm dropping through the air, landing with a bounce against the bed. I look up at Jace, as he stares down at me. _

_ That look he's giving me._

_ It's a look I've seen a thousand times before, the first in this life._

_ And it makes me burn._

_ I watch as he reaches down and pulls his shirt off. I watch as his muscles contract with the movement, and he's gorgeous. Golden skin. Two black tattoos marring the perfect smooth planes of his skin—a line of Latin on his upper arm and a strange, foreign looking symbol on the right of his chest._

_ When the shirt is off, his curls are disheveled, hanging messily into his smoldering, glowing, swirling eyes. _

_ He reaches down, to the button of his pants, undoes it slowly, pulls his zipper down at a languorous pace. And when I arch my back slightly, squeezing my legs together to get some sense of relief—and only making it worse in the process—he grins slightly, darkly as he shoves his pants down._

_ And then he's on top of me, hovering over me, teasing me._

_ His lips ghost over mine, down my chin, between my breasts, over my stomach. He breathes against my skin, heat against the chill of my body. _

_ I'm breathless._

_ Hopeless._

_ I feel him unbuttoning my jeans, pulling them down my legs carefully._

_ Everything he's doing is so slow. It's driving me insane, slowly and painfully, and I want to scream at him. Because I know he's doing this on purpose. I feel how much he wants me, too. I remember how sudden and rough he usually is this first time._

_ When my pants are gone, I feel Jace smile against my stomach, and then he's hovering over me again, his heat surrounding me, intoxicating me. His face is burrowed into my neck as he inhales deeply and says, "You smell so fucking good. Like lust."_

_And I am lusting after him. But his voice, his words, his presence above me, and gentle pressing between my legs, it makes it all worse._

_I growl a little in frustration. "Jace..."_

_"What?" he inquires back, a grin in his voice. I feel him nip at my earlobe, making me gasp, making me tingle. He presses his desire against me again, in just the right way to make me groan and wrap my legs tightly around him, trying in vain to get him closer. _

_And then we start moving, with our underwear frustratingly in the way. His body pushing into mine, my body pushing back. Undulating. Slow. So slowly. _

_I'm on fire. "Jace!" I exclaim in unfulfilled desire. _

_"Hm?" he hums against my neck, his grin returning. When I'm silent, he prompts. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."_

_This game._

_He likes to play this game, where he makes me so frustrated and wanting that I start professing horribly out of character things. Memories flash by at lightening speed: me begging him to fuck me, me telling him to touch me, me screaming at him to go harder. All things that currently make me blush, even in my overheated state._

_So I say to him, simply, "You. I want you."_

_He stops teasing me for a moment, stops everything. I can tell I've surprised him by the stillness in his body, but then he's pulling away from my neck to look down on me, his eyes sleepy and alert, dark and bright. A slow, sinful smile slips across his face as he says, "All right. That's what you'll get then." He kisses me once, a deceivingly chaste little peck, before he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra._

_I don't try to hide myself from his eyes because he's seen me before. I don't expect him to do much looking either, because why gaze upon something you know? But he does look, for a long time, before his eyes flicker up to mine from beneath his lashes, a dark smile slipping across his face before he leans down and kisses my breasts. Then he's licking and biting. I remember he likes to bite. And I remember I like when he does bite because I'm arching up against his mouth, shameful in my begging for more._

_My body is so desirous, so worked up, that any shift of my legs makes me want to scream. Any touch from Jace threatens to send me over the edge._

_And he knows it, smirks, and pulls away from me, leaving me squirming for more._

_He tilts his head down, watching as his hand slowly slides down from my left breast, smoothing across my stomach, to the edge of my panties. I think he will remove them, but he doesn't. He's too busy teasing. _

_His hand slips lower, gently over where I need him the most, where my body's heat almost rivals his. And then, suddenly and forcefully, he presses his hand against me, making me crane my neck back against the pillow and close my eyes._

_"Oh. Is _that_ what you want?" he inquires, and it's easy to hear the smile in his voice._

_I'm too far gone to even be angry at him. All I can do is nod my head rather frantically._

_His breathy responding chuckle is enough to make me groan. And then when he slips his fingers beneath the damp fabric of my panties, I do groan._

_Loudly._

_And then he's touching me, the way no man has ever touched me before. The way no man ever will touch me, because soon, I will be gone._

_But I can't think about things like that. I can't think about anything. Because I'm suddenly gasping and shaking, my stomach squeezing painfully tight just as my body clamps down. Lights explode. A million different sensations. Pleasure._

_It's so much._

_"Jesus," I hear Jace say under his breath. "You're so wound up."_

_It's true. I waste no time in denying it, and I can't anyone because he's moving his fingers inside me again, until I feel the same sensations as before. Again. And again. _

_Until it's almost unbearable._

And as I'm floating in bliss, my body still trembling and spasming, he's pressing inside me, not his fingers, him_._

_ I feel pain suddenly because he's stretching me and pushing through me. And I tense because he feels like too much. Too much for me._

_ "Stop," he says through his teeth, holding himself above me, the muscles in his arms tightened in a delicious way. All his muscles are tight, though, I notice. He shakes slightly, restraining himself, and this makes me tense even more, makes everything worse and better at the same time. "Fuck," he groans, shutting his eyes briefly before opening them again to meet mine. "Stop tensing up, Clary. You have to relax."_

_ I can't seem to listen, and he sighs slightly before I feel his hands moving, smoothing down my crimped up legs until I feel my muscles loosen slightly, my knees parting towards the bed. _

_ And he's deeper._

_ It feels wonderful, wonderful and not enough and painful and blurry._

_ I shut my eyes again, and I feel him push into me even more, until I don't know how we can be classified as two separate beings anymore._

_And then he's just still, for a very long time, a small sigh escaping him. And I hear him say, quietly, "You always feel so good."_

_ Before I can gather the wits to respond or decode, he starts moving, and I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't do anything but groan and moan and arch against him._

_ The longer we go, the more frenzied it gets._

_ The slow, gentle strokes fade into rougher, almost-painful thrusts. Jace's breathing heavily, harshly into my neck, his fangs scraping against my pounding, throbbing pulse. I'm digging my fingernails into the hard muscle of his back, feeling how he shakes slightly against me, just as I shake against him._

_ So much want._

_ So much building._

_ Building, building, building._

_ Sweat, all over us, slicking our bodies, making them move even more quickly against each other._

_ Rough._

_ It's rough._

_ He's being rough, and he was right. I do like it rough._

_ I like not feeling weak, like he doesn't think I'm weak, like he knows that I can handle how hard he's pounding into me. Because I can handle it. I welcome it._

_ Our breathing echoes off the stone walls, pants and breathy moans and groans, like animals. Wild. Untamed._

_ The bed squeaking, the headboard groaning with us._

_ My legs trying to tighten as tightly as they can around him, slipping and shifting._

_ His forehead suddenly touching mine, a silent urging that I can't understand, that I'm too far gone to listen to._

_ "Clary."_

_ His voice his hoarse, a sharp rasp that makes me tighten dangerously around him. His pace turns almost frantic._

_ "Open your eyes," he says._

_ I'm biting my lip, my whole body starting to tremble with impending release. I'm on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump off and fall for once._

_ "Open your fucking eyes, Clary, and look at me," he growls, and it truly is a growl, angry and hot and filled with desirous demand._

_ I have to listen to him now because his voice commands it, and when I do, when I see his eyes that are more wolf than man now, I can't stop from tipping and falling, my whole body shattering and tightening around him, around everything about him, as I tremble and gasp and loose touch with reality._

_ But even in my state of pure bliss, I feel his groan, feel his teeth slice through my skin in a painfully sharp bite to my shoulder, feel the burning heat of him rush inside me, warming everything inside me._

_ And there's nothing but blissful._

_ Pure._

_ Silence._

* * *

My hand goes up, touching the bite on my neck.

It's still there.

And I'm actually relieved.

Because it further reassures me that last night was real.

But the relief soon fades, and curiosity, anger, and hurt replace it.

Because he's not here.

He's gone.

He left me.

After he got what he wanted.

* * *

**Sooooooo bad. I'm ashamed. I actually had to force myself to take the first edit down, repost this one, and hope it's slightly better. But it's not! :( I feel like I've let y'all down. Ughhh.  
**


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: Next chapter! More questions! (:**

* * *

Chapter Thirty

I see him in the library.

He's talking to Max in low tones, but I still hear him.

He's talking about the spell.

About how he's only two ingredients away from having everything.

He talks about it as if it's nothing, which I suppose to him, it is. After all, when has a sexual encounter before ever stopped him from trying to kill me or bend me to his will? Why should I think that now, after we've slept together, that anything will change?

_MISTAKE_, the voices screech in anger, finally breaking through the wall I had them behind.

I wince.

Shut up, I think back.

_Mistake, mistake, mistake._

_ Child._

_ Immature._

_ Letting hormones rule you._

SHUT UP! I scream back at them furiously, humiliation turning into rage.

And then, as if Jace senses me, he glances up as Max murmurs something to him. Our eyes meet. And then he smirks slightly before diverting his attention back to Max.

Such a small look.

So many different meanings.

I want to hit myself for being so stupid, not just in giving into him but in letting myself think, even for a second, that things might be different.

I am a child, like the voices said. Immature. Naïve.

And then I'm running out of the room, to the conservatory, to face my mounting fears and disappointments.

I think I'm going to be sick.

* * *

Isabelle finds me a few hours later, sitting in one of the iron chairs, staring out into the sunny day with a blank face.

"What are you—?" Isabelle breaks off suddenly, her eyebrows arching sky high as she looks at me.

"What?" I inquire flatly.

"You had sex!"

I feel my jaw drop a little because there's no possible way she can tell. That kind of thing only happens in movies, in TV shows. It's impossible in real life. I've even covered the bite mark Jace gave me with a turtleneck dress.

She can't know.

"What?" I ask, trying to play at innocence.

But I'm a horrible liar.

Isabelle rolls her eyes at my attempt. "I can see your aura changed, Clary. You aren't pink anymore. You're red, which means you lost your virginity."

"What are you talking about?" I whisper, intrigued despite myself.

"Sirens can see people's auras. If they're innocent or not. It helps to give a sense of what they like, so we can lure our prey in." Isabelle explains this quickly as she drags a chair next to mine. "And I can see you lost your virginity."

"That's weird," I announce quietly, looking back at the sunny green hills before me.

"It had to have been Jace. There's no one else you would have done it with."

"You don't know everything," I say.

"I know an awful lot—especially about relationships."

"Funny, since you can't possibly be in one—the whole loveless demon thing," I snap, glaring over at her.

She scowls, darkness passing over her face, and I'm reminded suddenly of what she really is. "So obviously, your first time was less than stellar. I know it can't be Jace—that's his best attribute, knowing how to screw. So it had to have been the morning after." Isabelle nods to herself, pleased she's figuring it out. "You regret it, I bet. Because he probably tip-toed his way out of your bed before you even woke up."

At this, I can't hide my response, and she really knows she's right now.

And she nods. "Uh-huh. Well, what did you expect? Everything to be flowers and roses?"

"Shut up," I warn, my voice coming out in a slow, low growl that surprises me.

"You're the one that's always preaching on how horrible Jace is—about how he's such a monster. And then you get your panties twisted because he wasn't there to kiss you good morning?"

"Shut up," I repeat, shaking slightly.

"He's never there when I wake up. In fact, he usually ignores me for a few days, until I crawl back to him. It's just a game. Always a game to him."

This makes my anger fade slightly, makes me have the will and wits to stand up and walk away from her, instead of attack her.

I run out of the conservatory, down the hall, up the steps.

I'm not sure where I'm going.

There's nowhere to go.

Not for me, anyway.

Isabelle's words run in my mind, along with the angry murmurs of the voices, until my head is throbbing.

Jace is just playing a game with me.

It's obvious now.

The sad thing is, though, that I thought that maybe…maybe I was different to him. Maybe he wanted me more than any other girl. It seemed like it, from everything I'd heard—even from Isabelle herself. His desire for me made me special to him.

But in reality, once he had me, I was just like any other whore he'd been with. A conquest. A notch on his bedpost. Maybe he got a kick out of taking the crazy, walking dead girl's V-card. He probably did.

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I walk jerkily through the castle, in a rush to go nowhere because I can't.

This is all just a nightmare.

Maybe I'm really back at the mental health institute, locked in a padded cell with so many drugs in my veins that I'm drooling on myself.

Maybe none of this is real.

I hope it's not.

I hope this is all just a bad dream.

A shard of pain slices through my brain like a physical thing, and my legs jerk, my body convulsing and falling through the air, slamming roughly against the cold stone floors.

My vision is black and then it's not.

It's filled with a picture of something, something I can't quite decipher because it's blurry.

A bit of blue sky? A roof? Grass roof? Straw roof. Yes. That's what it is.

And then there's a voice, a whispered voice that echoes eerily in my mind.

"I'm Jordan Starkweather," it says. "And there's so much you don't know."


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: Y'all are all sooooo amazing. Thank y'all for reading this, and for being so sweet to me! It means so much! I'm going to try to get back on track with updating at least twice a day. So here is the first one for this day. I'm feeling pretty good with the story right now, so I might even update three times today. Maybe. Thanks again y'all! And review, as always! (:**

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Chapter Thirty-One

I sit up with a wince, touching the back of my sore head where it crashed against the floor.

My whole body feels electric, in the worst possible way. My head is fuzzy, my vision blurred as I recover from whatever type of new insanity I'm suffering from.

But was that really insanity?

Jordan's voice still rings in my head, clear as a bell and different than any other voice I've heard. He's a real person. He's really talking to me.

The voices in my head are suddenly very, very quiet.

"What aren't you telling me?" I ask them aloud, slowly.

Only deathly silence is my answer.

"Now what did I tell you about walking and chewing gum at the same time? You're just not coordinated enough to pull it off," comes a drawling voice behind me.

I twist my torso back, even though I know who it is.

Jace is ambling up to where I still sit, dumbfounded, on the floor. He's smirking, infuriating, beautiful, and the exact same as always. As if nothing ever happened.

Rage boils up inside me and stand stiffly, ignoring the protesting of my throbbing skull.

Different questions run through my mind.

Why did you leave this morning?

Did you just want to take my virginity for the fun of it?

Do I really mean nothing to you?

A flash of last night shoots into my mind, unwelcomed.

_The shockwaves fade, and I'm left feeling wonderfully tired._

_ Satisfied._

_ Warm._

_ Jace's still above me, but he's no longer holding himself up. He's collapsed, and his weight is deliciously heavy against me._

_ I smooth my fingers over his sweat-dampened back, over his hard muscle that has finally relaxed, and I feel him shudder gently against me before he's lifting himself up, looking down at me with sleepy eyes that have cooled just slightly, only smoldering softly now, like the dying embers of a fire._

_ He leans in, presses his lips to my forehead, and I close my eyes._

_ And bask in the glow._

I blink, infuriated with myself for being distracted—and for being fooled then into believing he might actually have feelings for me.

Just because he kisses me on the forehead after he's gotten what he wants doesn't make him love me.

It just makes me a fool to think so.

All the questions that are in my mind fade suddenly and the one that is blurted out is much more important, anyway.

"Who's Jordan Starkweather?"

Whatever Jace has been expecting, I've surprised him. His eyebrows arch, but he quickly schools his features into his usual bored arrogance.

"The last Starkweather to watch after you," he replies dully, but I can see the curiosity simmering in his eyes as he glances at me.

"Where is he?" I demand.

Jace can't keep his carefully crafted expression in place any longer, and confusion bleeds through. "Dead. Died in a car wreck when you were a kid, I think."

"You're lying," I snap, instinctually.

"Why the hell would I lie to you about that? If I killed him, I'd tell you," he says.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, I don't doubt for a moment that you would. I meant you're lying about whether he's alive or not."

"What are you talking about?" Jace demands, his anger starting to seethe in his voice. Anger and confusion usually go hand-in-hand with him, I remember.

"I think Jordan is still alive," I reply quickly.

"That makes no sense. I saw the newspapers when he died." Jace crosses his arms, giving me that look—that look that makes me bristle.

"I'm saying, I think maybe that's all a lie."

"Concocted by who, exactly?" he retorts smartly. "The crazy voices in your head?"

"Shut up!" I scream, my face starting to burn and blotch with anger. "I can't believe you."

"What can't you believe?" he asks in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"How you're acting!"

"I'm acting no different than usual." His eyes narrow, daring me. Daring me to say something, to acknowledge the last night.

It would be a reward to him, if I blew up about him leaving this morning, about him acting so nonchalant about it. It would give him a sick sense of satisfaction to know I've been hurt by him in any way.

And I won't give it to him.

So I simply say, "You're right. You're being an asshole as usual. Which isn't really the concern or the point at the moment. I'm telling you Jordan is alive."

"And just how do you know this? Are you adding clairvoyancy to your list of psycho talents now?"

"I just felt some kind of…flash. In my mind. And as clear as you're talking to me now, I heard a voice say, 'I'm Jordan Starkweather. And there's so much you don't know.' And before you ask, no. It's not like the other voices in my head. This was different."

I see Jace's debate, his internal musings as he lets my words sink in. Then he says, "All right. Fine. Say Jordan's alive. So what? Why'd he go AWOL, fake his own death, just to come back a few years later sending you psychic messages?"

"I'm thinking maybe he didn't fake his own death. Because that would make no sense."

"Neither does him sending you mind telegrams," Jace announces, making my blood boil. "Now, maybe you should go lie down before you have another conniption fit."

I force myself to breathe slowly, evenly, so he doesn't see through me. "Doesn't it concern you at all—about Jordan?"

Jace comes to stand directly in front of me, so close that I have to tilt my head up to meet his burning hot gaze. He leans down, so our lips almost touch, but I refuse to pull away in intimidation.

He's done intimidating me.

"No, it doesn't. In fact, nothing concerns me right now except getting my siblings out, and winning this chess match between us once and for all. So go to your room and stop asking questions."

"You don't tell me what to do," I respond firmly, glaring up at him with as much cool anger as I can muster.

His eyes turn brilliant gold in his enragement, and his hand is in the back of my hair, yanking my head back with enough force to make my eyes water. He's trembling slightly with restrained fury. "No?" he asks hotly against my lips. His fingers in my hair flex, pulling at my scalp in agony.

But I bite my cheek to keep from crying out, and when the pain lessens a bit, I lean towards him as much as I can and say, right back into his mouth, "No."

That's it.

His anger snaps, and I'm slammed back into the wall with breathtaking force. He's towering over me, his arms braced on either side of my head against the wall, trapping me as he stares me down, his eyes on fire.

My fingers tremble by my sides at his closeness, so I curl them in to fists and look back at him with as much defiance as I can muster in face of the warm stirrings of desire I begin to feel in my stomach.

My body hums with his closeness, knowing that scent and that heat can mean pleasure. But my mind screams at me to focus.

_Shut your eyes_, the voices say, making a reappearance. _Don't look at him. Don't give in. Again._

I don't obey them, though, because now my gaze is trapped as much as it is necessary to prove that I'm not afraid of him anymore.

"Don't act like you have any kind of power over me," I hiss up at him, my body starting to shake.

Wanting.

Aching.

And anger.

All boiling in me, colliding, making my head crowded.

"I mean, what are you gonna do?" I whisper, my voice icy cold. "Kill me now before you use me in your precious little ceremony?"

Jace's hand slams into the stone so hard that a few pieces break free. And then he's gripping my upper arms with both of his hands, hauling me up like I weigh nothing, a subtle reminder of his strength compared to mine, and he's holding me so tightly, I know he's leaving bruises.

His mouth is on mine, warm lips that are stiff with anger. He's not kissing me. He's making a point. "I have more power over you than you'd like to admit. I can fucking smell how much you want me."

Something strange comes over me, a wisp of a previous gumption in my previous lives. My hand is suddenly at the front of Jace's pants, where his desire is as clear to me as mine is to him. I grab him through the denim of his jeans, and he groans suddenly, slamming me against the wall again, this time leaning into me, pressing into me. His breathing is hard and hot against my mouth.

"As much power as you have over me, I have over you," I reply softly, moving my lips against his with each word.

He nips at my bottom lip, and I feel him starting to slip.

He's going to give in.

He's going to kiss me.

Somehow, without even trying, I'm going to beat him at his own game.

My body quakes slightly, ready for whatever he's going to do to me. This has happened a few times before, in the past, when I could turn the tables against him. And he'd always be extra rough and violent, because he had lost and he knew it.

And I am going to relish in this victory, even if it isn't like me.

Even if this is all so foreign to me.

But then, like fate, Max appears, once again disrupting us.

"Sir?" Max inquires flatly, standing there in the hall, a few feet away.

Jace's eyes find mine, and they are angry and hot and animalistic and wanting all at once, enough to make my stomach twist, and he's letting me go, shoving me away from him sharply.

"What?" he demands, his voice almost a growl.

"There's been a complication with one of the ingredients, and Tom is on the phone wanting—" Max begins.

And Jace is already moving, stalking away, leaving Max to follow.

And leaving me to feel both relieved and victorious.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: Here's another. Going into town, so it'll be later tonight before I update again. But have no fear, there will be at least one more update tonight (; **

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Chapter Thirty-Two

I throw down the book in frustration.

A cloud of dust puffs out, hanging suspended in the afternoon sunbeams like sparkling glitter before settling back down.

The library is stifling hot with the light pouring in from the windows, and I pull at my dampened shirt with a sigh.

Four hours of combing over any books that look promising have come up with nothing.

The voices seem a little relieved in my mind.

But they won't talk to me to tell me why.

They haven't spoken since the incident with Jace yesterday in the hallway.

I slump into a chair, staring at the mess of old tomes I have littered across the table. Not one of them mentions anything besides family trees—my family tree, the Starkweathers'. Even the Waylands' tree.

My mother was named Sarah. My father's name was Eli.

Jace's mother's name was Elizabeth. His father's name was John.

Those were the only halfway interesting facts I found, and even then, when I read my parents' names, I remembered nothing about them. Felt nothing about them. And this made me sad because I am slowly remembering so much but have no connection to them whatsoever.

I rub at my eyes tiredly.

The clock in my head is ticking again.

I know it's getting close to the day I'll die.

Maybe I should give this search for information a rest. What could it matter by now? Whatever information Starkweather may or may not have, it's not going to save my life.

So why does it feel so important that I speak to him?

I sigh and close my eyes, trying to figure out a way to talk with him. I search in the dark caverns of my mind diligently, looking for a portal, some way to contact him like he's contacted me. But the voices start murmuring, each voice talking over the other, roaring up like a river in a cave, echoing off the walls, until I can't focus on anything.

I give up with a small growl.

"I know you're up to something," I whisper to them, my voice filling the library softly.

They don't respond.

"Who are you talking to?"

I jump and turn to face Isabelle as she saunters into the room, her black hair piled on top of her head in messy elegance.

I only glare at her in response.

She doesn't notice. Instead, she says, "And damn. What did you do to Jace? He's been in the worst mood."

"I don't know what you mean," I dismiss, looking back down at the book I know has no secrets I want to know. I hope Isabelle will take the hint and leave.

But she doesn't, only comes to sit across from me.

"I mean, he came to my room and was all sexually frustrated."

My heart takes a nosedive in my chest, my stomach trying to revolt. But my voice comes out clear and acidic as I say, still looking at the book, "Well, I'm sure you remedied that for him."

"That's the thing—he wouldn't even let me. I mean, he was sporting a hard-on the size of Texas and wouldn't even let me help him out."

I wrinkle my nose. "You might be one of the most crass people I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. And as far as Jace goes, maybe he didn't _want_ your help. Guys get tired of easy girls eventually, you know."

"Jesus." Isabelle huffs. "Looks like he's not the only one in a bad mood."

"I'm reading. Can you go away now?" I inquire.

"I think you guys need to just fuck again and get it over with. It'll make things a lot less moody around here if you do," she says.

I finally look up at her, leveling my eyes with hers and saying in an even, firm tone, "Did you not hear me the first time? Get out."

Isabelle rolls her eyes, but she stands and flounces out of the room without another word.

I slump in my seat, sighing in relief now that she is gone.

And then, because I'm so tired of staring at yellowing, musty pages, I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the desk. Trying in vain to escape.

But I'll never escape.

I can't.

I have a job to do.

Even if I don't want to do it.

* * *

She's on the cliff again, standing at the very edge, looking down into the crashing waters.

The air is electric with the impending storm once again.

Things are about to get violent.

Explosive.

Dangerous.

And then Jordan's there, standing next to her. He's staring at her with a small smile and his kind eyes, and she's looking back in halfway recognition.

"Clary," he says.

"Jordan?" she asks back, unsure.

He nods, smiling again. "Yes."

"What…what's happening? How are you…here?" Her voice comes out strangely slow, as her mind becomes hazy. Thick. Heavy.

The sky is getting darker now, the winds starting to whip at her hair and dress.

Jordan looks up, eyeing the clouds with distaste before returning his gaze to hers. "I'm here because I'm using a trick you taught me. But we don't have much time. They don't want me to be here."

"Who?" she asks.

Jordan's body seems to fade slightly, like an old photograph. "No…time…to explain." Now it's his voice that is slow, and broken up.

He's like a radio station that's not coming in properly.

"What?" she demands, running towards his flickering form.

"Just know—know…" Jordan's saying quickly but his voice going in and out. "Know that they aren't what they seem. Know…I'm…for you. I'm…for… and I'll…soon!"

"What?" she asks in desperation.

Rain starts pattering down, splattering against her skin like ice.

"I'm coming for you, Clary!" he yells, and his body is completely gone now. There's only his voice. And he uses it to say one last thing before everything is gone, before she is drowning in a hurricane, before everything is black.

He says.

"Stall."


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Last update for the night! Enjoy y'all! I'll be back tomorrow or Friday! Review please! (;**

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Chapter Thirty-Three

Stall.

The word lingers in my mind, even as I wake and lift my head from the library desk. My neck is sore, but my body is vibrating with energy.

These dreams.

They're real.

Jordan's real.

I'm not sure how I know this. I just do. I _feel _it.

The voices are quiet.

And…

Fuming?

They're angry.

Worried.

They're worried I'm figuring something out. Worried Jordan will keep his word and get here.

"Why?" I ask them.

But it's useless.

They've shut me out completely, locking me out of parts of my own mind, and I long for them to be gone, more so than ever.

To have silence.

To have control again.

Control of my mind.

How many things have they hidden from me? How many things are they hiding now? Will I die before I find all the secrets buried in the dark corners of my mind?

Jace is suddenly in the room, breezing in with shower-damp curls and gray sweatpants. His golden smooth, toned chest is bare to my traitorous eyes, but I avert my gaze just as he notices me and says, "Have you been here all night?"

I glance at the windows, seeing the dim gray light filtering in. Dawn. "I…yeah."

Jace smirks, stretching his arms lazily. His eyes are still sleepy, and a picture of what he looks like when he first wakes up pops into my mind.

Messy hair. Dark circles under his droopy eyes. A small smile on his lips. He looks younger when he's waking up. Sweeter.

It's a look I used to yearn for.

I shake my thoughts away.

"Still trying to find answers, huh?" he asks, his voice just a little gravely as he saunters over to one of the many bookshelves. "How's it going?"

"It's not," I say.

"Didn't think it would." He smirks again, tugging slightly at the hem of his sweats. They are riding dangerously low, the deep V line of his hips visible above them.

It makes my body tingle, so I look away. "What are you doing?" I ask, fixing my eyes on the books still sat open before me.

"Looking up where a certain type of flower grows—one needed for the spell. Unfortunately, the boy I've sent to fetch has had no luck. So I'm going to look for some other places the flowers are found." Jace plucks a deep red book from the masses and glances sideways at me, a half grin cocked on his mouth. "It's the last ingredient."

_Stall._

I bite my lip, shift. "I see."

"Getting nervous?"

"Bite me," I scoff, inspecting my nails.

"Already did. How's that healing by the way?" The infuriating little smile in his voice is visible on his lips when I glare up at him.

This is a prompt.

I'm to initiate things now.

He wants me to give in this time, to even things up.

_Stall_.

Shit, I think.

I say, aloud, "Fine." I'm proud of how nonchalant my voice sounds. I even go up to touch the mark and I add, "I haven't even paid it much attention."

Jace only smirks in response because he knows I'm lying. Knows I'm playing along. "Hm." He looks down at the book now, and I feel a twinge of desperation well up inside me.

How can I stall him?

I stand up suddenly, so violently that my chair scrapes back loudly. "Jace."

Jace glances over at me, an eyebrow arching curiously and slowly. There's a tiny smile threatening to break free on his face. "Clary."

There are many different things I can ask or say. Possibilities run through my mind rapidly, but I don't think them through. I don't think through anything. I just blurt out, "Why?"

This takes Jace off guard a bit. "Why what?"

I've already committed. And I want to know. So I ask, "Why did you act like…like nothing ever happened—the other day?"

Jace stares at me for a moment, his face schooled in detached amusement, before he glances away. His voice is cool and even as he says, "Did you think just because we fucked things would change?"

His words are calm and gentle, despite their crassness.

And I swallow back anger and bile. "No. I'm not that naïve." But I am. "I just excepted a little more courage from you than running out of my room before facing me."

Jace's eyes tighten, a cold smile slipping across his face. "Aw. Did I hurt your feelings?"

I scoff with a little laugh and toss of my shoulders. "Don't flatter yourself, Jace. Despite what you think, my feelings don't revolve around your actions."

He bites his lip to hide a smile, and he drifts closer to me, close enough that he drops his book behind me on the desk, leaning into me as he does so. His scent is intoxicating. And he knows this. "Well, you certainly seem hurt."

"It's not hurt. Just confusion. I didn't think you'd pull such a chicken shit move," I reply, looking in his eyes with bold challenge. This is so out of character, but it seems familiar at the same time. That same ghost has taken hold of me, guiding my actions, leading me away from the timid shell I've spent this lifetime hiding behind.

"You're getting awful brave, sweetheart," Jace chimes softly, reaching up to draw his index finger down my cheek. He leaves a trail of fire behind before his finger reaches my chin, and he's suddenly gripping me there, holding my head up to his. "Maybe it's time to take you down a notch."

I shove his hand away because if I give in too soon, he'll suspect. He'll know I'm up to something. I say, "Don't pretend to be all big and bad. We both know you're not going to do anything to me."

"You're thinking in forms of torture. I'm thinking of other things." He's looking down now, watching as his hand comes up and rests against my hip, smoothing down my thigh.

I remove his hand again. "You already had your chance at that, and I wasn't impressed."

Jace chuckles darkly. "You seemed pretty impressed while it was happening." He's leaning into me again, his lips at my ear. His body ghosts just lightly against mine.

"I don't know," I reply, whispering into his neck. "Maybe you're loosing your touch."

He's grabbing my hair again, pulling me away from him harshly, glaring at me with scorching eyes. "Whatever you're doing, it's not gonna work, sweetheart. So just get out. Before I loose my temper."


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: So sorry I have been so slack updating. I had football games to go to! So glad college football is back! Anyway, here's the first update of many today! We are drawing very near to the end! Hold on! (;**

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Chapter Thirty-Four

Disappointed at myself—but not surprised—I start to turn and walk away from Jace. I will have to find another way to stall, a less conspicuous way.

But his hand is suddenly gripping my arm—each finger pressing into my skin hard enough to leave a bruise. And I smile slightly, relieved, because I've got him.

He jerks me back to face him, and his lips are hot and demanding against mine, almost furious.

He _is_ furious.

Because I'm winning.

I shove his face away from mine, better at pretending his kiss has not affected me than I thought I'd be, and I glare. "Don't touch me."

Jace's eyes flash, and I'm slammed back against a bookcase, the shelves digging into my back painfully. His face is in mine, his breath hot against my lips. "I'll do whatever the hell I want to do with you."

This enrages me, an old part of me that bristles at possessiveness, but I manage to keep my emotions at bay. Instead, I simply arch an eyebrow lazily and say, "I don't think so." I jerk my knee up, intending to catch him between the legs, but he knows me too well, and he's prepared for it. He hunches, and it finds purchase against his rock hard stomach.

He grunts slightly, starting to shake—not with pain, but with barely restrained outrage.

I'm being lifted and tossed over Jace's shoulder swiftly, before I even realize what he's doing, and I pound against his back, blood rushing to my cheeks as I'm tilted upside down. "Let go of me!" I cry.

But of course, Jace doesn't listen.

He just begins walking, and in a blink, we're in a room I've never been in before—a carnivorous room with exposed beam ceilings, large windows, multiple bookshelves and tables, and massive bed.

Jace's room.

I'm not sure how I know.

I just do.

He puts me down—or rather, drops me—and he shuts and locks his door before turning to face me. "Don't want any interruptions this time." He advances on me, his steps measured and slow but ready to pounce if I run. He's changed, his face dark, his eyes bright, swirling gold, his movements breathtakingly graceful and powerful.

More monster now.

I back up carefully, my heart pounding, and I can't help the little thrill I feel. Am I thrilled to be in his room, with him stalking towards me? Surely not. It must be thrill at having succeeded in my plan. This will stall him for the rest of the night, at least. He won't be able to tell his little slave where the last ingredient is.

"Adding rapist to your long list of outstanding character traits?" I inquire with a biting tone.

Jace closes the gap between us in two big strides, and he's pressing my body to his, against his, so that I can feel his arousal against my stomach. His lips are at my ear. "It's so amusing how you pretend not to want this. Do you honestly think I can't sense how much you do?"

I have no response to this because despite my best efforts, I do want this. And I know he knows it. There's no way for me to hide it.

He's smiling against my neck, and then he's kissing me, roughly again, but slightly victorious this time. And I can't bring myself to regret my surrender.

There's a loud ripping sound, and I realize a heartbeat later that it's the front of my dress that has been torn apart. Jace jerks it off my shoulders, letting it pool behind me, and then he's pressing us together again, his bare chest warm and smooth.

He's impatient, and so am I. This won't be a slow buildup, and I don't want it to be so I reach down between us and pull his sweatpants down just enough to expose his boxers and then I pull those down, too, so that his erection is free.

He lifts me, pushing me against a wall, spreading my legs, removing my panties—all within the span of a heartbeat.

Heat presses in on us, from him, from me, until I can't breathe and I'm yearning, _aching_, reaching for him.

But he's holding back just enough to drive me crazy, and his face is in my neck, his sharp teeth barely tracing my pounding pulse, not breaking skin, just teasing.

"Jace," I almost beg, squirming against him, trying to get him to react.

He only smiles against my jaw. "Loosing my touch?"

I huff, frustrated, and turn my face towards his ear. "What are you going to do prove you aren't?"

Jace grabs my hair, pulls my head back, and his eyes are suddenly the only things I can see. They're on fire, swirling hot, like the sun. And he says, "I'll show you."

And he does.

* * *

When I wake up to a bright room, I turn immediately and find Jace beside me.

He's sprawled out on the bed, his face turned away from me, the white sheet of his bed hanging low on his waist, barely covering him. His golden curls are messy, his skin almost glowing in the morning sun. I watch as he breathes slowly, watch as his defined stomach muscles move with each breath.

He's beautiful.

I sit up slightly, my body deeply satisfied and wonderfully tired. I rub my eyes, thinking of the last night with a faint blush. Then I peep back over at Jace, glad he hasn't seen my reaction.

I inhale deeply and stretch my arms and back languidly, almost forgetting for a moment that the whole point of last night was to stall. I can't forget that kind of thing. I can't let myself.

Jace's waking up now, too, yawning and opening his gorgeous eyes. He looks up at me, and there's something so open about that look that it takes my breath away. He looks young. Kind.

Like a ghost of someone I once knew but have now forgotten.

Then he blinks, and the look is gone, a small smirk on his lips, twisting everything. He sits up, runs his fingers through his curls that I tangled the night before with my greedy hands. "Good morning," he says, his voice deeper than usual with sleep.

I flush and look away from him, because I'm suddenly sickened. And sad.

Heartbroken.

Longing for something else.

"You gonna be shy now?" Jace whispers against my shoulder suddenly.

I shove him away from me in anger, glaring as he falls back against the bed with a chuckle.

Jace scrubs at his face before tossing an arm over his eyes and sighing. "Well, I guess it's time to call Will and tell him about that flower." He sits up slightly on his elbows and looks at me. "Unless you're willing to distract me again."

I stare at him silently, my lips pressing together tightly. I make up my mind quickly, rolling on top of him, my legs on either side of him. He sits up, his burning hot hands smoothing up my ribs, brushing over the sides of my breasts.

I place my hands on his chest, moving them down, savoring the feel of his warm, smooth skin over hard, strong muscle. I keep going down, over his contracting abdominal muscles, and down even lower, until my fingers come into contact with the burning hot skin I'm searching for.

Jace groans slightly, his head tilting forward, resting briefly on my collarbones before lifting again and meeting my eyes.

I'm shy suddenly, because of his searching, smoldering gaze, and I drop my eyes to his stomach, watching as he takes in short, shuddering breaths. "Show me," I whisper quietly. "Show me how to touch you."

His hand finds mine, covering it, moving it up and down his hard length slowly, moving it the way he likes it, the way that becomes familiar to me the more we go.

Soon, his hand drops away, letting me take over, and the ghosts of my past pick up the action, guiding me the way his hand had, until he's breathing in low moans and resting his head back against the headboard, as if he can't hold it up on his own anymore.

And I feel the thrill of knowing I'm bringing him pleasure, the same pleasure he brings me, and I feel the zing of power, knowing that I can make him this helpless.

And I feel the excitement, settling in my stomach, making me tingle and squeeze my legs together.

Jace notices, and then I feel his hand smoothing up my thigh, his fingers slipping inside me, where I'm slick and aching for him. He smiles slightly as I gasp softly and rock against them.

I squeeze him gently as he begins moving his fingers in and out, slowly, and this makes Jace groan and pick up his pace. "Fuck, sweetheart," he says in one breath. "Move your hand faster."

I do as he orders, and now, the languid touches have become faster, more frantic. I'm gripping him harder now, my movements swifter and more confident. And Jace's reacting. His fingers slip out of me, and he's gripping my hips now, pressing his face into my neck and groaning.

I'm not sure what comes over me, but I suddenly let go of him and impale myself on his length just as he explodes, his warmth rushing inside me and triggering my own release. I rock against him greedily, moaning slightly into his hair, holding onto his shoulders as tightly as I can.

I see flashes of color as I move on him, and all that keeps me tethered to the earth is the painful grip Jace has on my hips.

And then it's over, and I'm slumping against him, my inner muscles still clenching around him rhythmically with the aftershocks of my orgasm. Then, I feel him swelling inside me again, becoming hard faster than I think possible. I pull back to look at him, and he grins slightly, that dark grin that makes me rock against him a little.

Then he flips me over, so that I'm on my back and he's on top, pounding into me relentlessly.

It's heavenly, how rough he is with me, and it hurts a little, a good kind of pain that distracts me from everything—from my impending doom, from my sad little life. Everything.

I'm supposed to be distracting Jace, and it's having the opposite effect.

And when we've both come together, and Jace's resting heavily on top of me, our pants filling the air, I don't want this to be over. I don't want it to ever end because when it does, I'll have to face reality again.

I've never been good at facing reality.

There's a sudden knock on the door, dragging me back to the real world. The knocking is insistent, and Jace can't ignore it, so he lifts off of me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, before rolling out of the bed, pulling up his boxers as he saunters to the door and throws it open.

"What?" I hear him ask.

I'm already shutting my eyes because I know. Somehow, I know what's coming.

"Sir," Max says slowly. "Will has returned. He found the flower without your assistance, he says."

Jace is quiet, but he doesn't need to speak for me to know what is coming.

Max says it for both of us.

"It's the final ingredient. The spell can be completed tonight."

And even though I know it's coming, I still feel my stomach drop.

* * *

**I'll probably do outtakes when the story is over of the night they had. Also will have outtakes of Clary's previous lives with Jace, too, but right now, I feel like I need to keep y'all invested in the plot that's happening now, rather than going off on things that are "fun" but not particularly vital. Review, y'all! (: OH! AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! SO MANY SWEET REVIEWS! Y'ALL ARE SERIOUSLY THE GREATEST!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: AH! I'm getting nervous, y'all! It's getting so close to the end! I'm startin' to get a lil' sad! :( Anyway, enjoy! (:**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five

"So." Isabelle smirks at me. "Have a nice night with Jace?"

I'm staring at myself in the mirror, at my healthy skin and my filled-in face and shinny curls. I look good again, like a person. So ironic that I will soon be dead.

_Dead for the safety of the world._

Shut up, I think to the voices. A small part of me hopes, hopes that Jordan will be here before tonight. But I doubt he will. I doubt his presence will make a difference, anyway.

Jace will just kill him on sight.

"It was a nice night," I say because I don't feel like lying. I smooth my hands over the white, simple dress Isabelle says I've been requested to wear for the ceremony. I look younger in it, innocent and pretty.

"I'll bet. What's I'm-going-to-die-soon sex even feel like? I bet it's pretty damn hot, especially with Jace."

I'm not offended by her question. I'm just a little numb. "It is hot."

Isabelle actually looks a little uncomfortable by my honesty. I don't think she had expected me to answer her with anything less than hostility, and now she's quiet at she picks at the hem of her shirt.

I glance over to the right, to see out the windows of my bedroom. It's dark out, now, and I drift over, pull the curtains back, to get a better look.

Many feet below and in the distance, there's the spark of a fire on the cliff. I see old ruins being lit by the yellow flames, and I see shadowy figures moving in the darkness, readying the alter for my sacrifice.

"I'm…I kinda hate you're going to die," Isabelle says suddenly, from behind me.

I turn to look at her as she perches on my bed.

"I mean, you seem… I don't know. I just…it sucks you're going to bite the big one tonight." She looks up at me a little desperately and shrugs.

Strangely touched, I offer a smile. "Thanks, Isabelle."

She just looks away. "Sure."

There's a knock on the door, and before I can move, Max opens it and walks inside, his face as devoid of emotion as always. "It's time, Miss."

I just nod in response, an odd sense of calm filling me.

* * *

It's cold.

Bitterly cold.

The wind coming off the water a hundred feet below is bone-chilling, and I shiver, hugging my arms to my chest.

Max and a few others I do not know are by the fire, moving ingredients, fixing things, making sure everything is proper. Proper for my death.

Isabelle stands beside me, either for support or to keep me from running away, maybe throwing myself off that close by cliff to buy myself a few more decades. I'm not sure why she's there, but I move closer to her anyway.

And then Jace appears, wearing his worn leather jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans. His curls blow wildly in the wind as he jerks his chin at Isabelle and says, "Give me a second."

She nods obediently and walks swiftly away from me, her place taken by Jace.

His heat is immediately around me, soothing the bite of the cold. He looks down at me, half of his face illuminated by the roaring fire a few feet away. His expression is undecipherable. "It'll be time soon."

I nod simply, eyeing the old stone ruins yards away, the ruins I feel are important, despite their decrepit appearance.

That's the door.

That's where _They_ are.

I shiver even harder.

"This is the first time I've killed you and known you'd stay dead."

Jace's words draw me out of my mind and make me look over at him in shock. But he's gazing beyond me, at the restless ocean waters lit by the full moon.

"It's strange," he adds, his eyes flickering to mine.

I take a deep, shaky breath, and then I feel tears rushing into my eyes, blurring my vision. My bottom lip quivers, and I'm crying then, sobbing—soft gasps of air. "I'm scared," I say in a pathetic whisper.

I'm not even ashamed at this display in front of Jace. It doesn't matter anymore.

His jacket is suddenly around my shaking frame, and it's deliciously warm and big. It engulfs me.

Jace's hand runs over my cheek, swiping away tears before he tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear. He leans down, and I think he might kiss me. Or maybe say something. But he just lets go of me, and walks away, without one look back.

It's two minutes later and Max is leading me over to the ruins.

They are like Stonehenge almost, big fallen pillars set in a circle, around a strange symbol in the ground.

The door.

I'm dragged over to one of the pillars and chained against it like an animal. But I don't protest.

_Be ready. We will help you escape soon. And then you will change the spell._

I barely hear the voices as Max finishes chaining me, and walks over to a small table piled with strange looking things—ingredients. Candles, crushed petals, dried animal parts—all kinds of things, all ready to be used for my death.

_That's where you will go. That's where you will add your blood and change the spell._

Okay.

I can do this.

I will do this.

I have to.

Jace stands across from me, his arms crossed, the fire reflecting in his eyes as he stares at the angry flames.

And then Jocelyn appears, flouncing into my view with a toss of her long red hair. She bounces over to Jace, murmuring something to him, running her hand up his chest.

A stab of irrational jealousy stabs at me.

Especially when he graces her with a small smile.

Why is she even here?

A tourist to watch my death?

But then, when she holds up an old book in her hands, and strolls over to the center of the ruins, I realize she's here to do the spell.

I want nothing more than to leap across and kill her. But the chains restrict me.

_Patience_.

Jocelyn opens the book, clears her throat, and begins speaking in Latin. The words don't make any sense to my ears, but my skin still prickles, the hairs on my neck raising.

She's speaking dark things, bad things.

And then she begins to take the ingredient from the table as she speaks and dumps them into the fire. The flames leap each time something new is tossed inside.

Evil. Darkness. A door.

A bigger door than the one in front of me.

She's doing something else…something worse…

I begin to shake, and Jocelyn's words become faster, more fluid.

The crystal clear sky above, the thousands of glistening stars overheard, become covered in clouds, dark and swirling clouds. The ocean crashes louder against the cliff, the wind rushing harder, pulling at my hair and clothes, whistling through the ruins like howling ghosts.

I see Jocelyn nod slightly to Jace as she continues speaking. I see him begin to pull out a saber, the cold steel flashing sharply in the night, and my blood runs cold. He moves towards me, slowly and measured, very much a predator.

_Be ready._

_ It's almost time._

_ Almost time._

My heart begins pounding, my palms sweating, and still, the wind rages on. Jace draws closer, closer and closer, until he's standing directly in front of me, raising his sword before placing the tip against my heart. His curls whip wildly, but his face is immoveable, set in stone, as he stares at me.

The tip of the sword presses into my skin, breaking it, drawing a drop of crimson blood.

Jace inhales deeply, and I see the slightly hesitation in his eyes. But then he blinks, and it's gone. His eyes are now solid as stone, not swirling, not beautiful—just cold, as cold as the steel of his sword.

And I know he will kill me. I know he'll do it now, and something like heartbreak over powers my fear for a moment. A deep, painful flash of heat in my stomach that fills me and makes tears appear in my eyes.

Old heartbreak.

Old hope.

Shattered.

_What happened to him?_ I whisper to myself, but it's not me that whispers it. Or maybe it is. I'm not sure.

_Be ready to run,_ the voices say, ignoring the grief welling up inside me, taking my breath.

And then…

"STOP!"

And everything does stop.

At least, for me.

The wind is still angry, but Jocelyn has stopped speaking and Jace has stopped pressing the sword. And we are all looking over at a middle-aged man with dark hair and outreached arms.

And I remember.

I remember him fully now.

Jordan.

* * *

**GASP! What do y'all think? Y'all probably saw this coming. But I doubt y'all are going to see what's coming next (wink, wink)! I'm updating again tonight, super soon, so don't get angry with me!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Short chapter, but another one coming in a few minutes! Enjoy!(:**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Six

Max and another man are grabbing at Jordan immediately, each taking one of his arms and holding him back.

But Jordan's barely fazed as he looks at Jace and I with large, panicked eyes. "You can't kill her!"

"Why not?" Jace drawls calmly, but despite the returned pressure of his blade against my chest, I feel the slight tremble in his hand.

"Because you were in love with her!" Jordan explodes, struggling against his captors.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jace dismisses, turning away from Jordan, back to me, and putting more pressure on the sword. It's starting to pierce past my skin now.

It's agonizing.

"You did! You both loved each other! You were getting married!" Jordan kicks out but gets nowhere. "Cassia picked the spell—she picked the loophole to be her death. She trusted you, Jace. She thought that you'd never kill her, so therefore, the door would never be unlocked! Why would she do that unless she was sure of your love?"

"She was obviously wrong!" Jace snarls, and his head snaps like a wolf's back to Jordan, fire in his eyes.

"They wanted you to forget!" Jordan cries, desperate. "Your siblings wanted you to forget, and you wanted to forget because it hurt too much—so you forgot! They tricked you, Jace! You don't remember it anymore, but you have the memories inside you!"

"Kill him," Jocelyn snaps, his hair beginning to rise in the wind. Yet her hair is moving against the wind, starting to billow upwards, not side-to-side. Her eyes are turning black. "He's lying to save her life!"

"You both have forgotten," Jordan's screaming. Max and the other man are pulling him back, towards the cliff. They'll kill him. "You've forgotten because it would cause too much trouble for others! You have to listen! Listen to me!" His voice is getting distant now, quiet amongst the howling wind.

Jace's eyes flash back to mine, angry and swirling. The blade slips deeper, dangerously close to my heart, and I cry out in sickening pain.

"Kill her!" Jocelyn's chanting, but her voice is no longer her own. It's garbled and evil and dark. Her eyes are as black as the devil's, and her hair is floating higher and higher.

Something's wrong.

_Something's wrong,_ the voices second.

"Something's wrong, Jace!" I scream.

He must sense it, too, because he glances back to Jocelyn, just as she adds the last ingredient to the fire, and throws herself into the flames. Instead of burning and screaming, her shape changes, twisting and morphing until she is huge and hulking, until she is bigger than the fire, and darker than the night.

Demon.

It's a demon.

_The_ demon.

The one that I've seen before, that I've seen in an old barn, trying to break free from hell, with Jace's father in front of me, with me stabbing him.

It's free now.

_Kill it!_ the voices screech in unison.

And I feel heat in my palms, and I feel the chains melting away from my grasp, and I'm dodging out of Jace's way, the sword pulling free of my flesh. I hit the ground with a gasp before pushing myself back up, ignoring the sting in my chest, only focusing on the urge I have to kill the monster stepping free of the flames, ready to reek havoc on the world.

I run over the symbol on the ground, and the black lines charred into the earth light up underneath me, swirling and opening until there's a door there.

The door.

_They_ are behind it, pounding at it, screaming in agony and anger, their cries mixing with the howling of the wind, until the air is filled with the ghastly chorus of the damned.

I reach for a small dagger on the ingredient table, my fingers closing around it desperately as I keep running for the monster.

The demon that ruined everything.

A flash of a face stabs at my memory, forcing its way through the wall in my mind that the voices have let crumble slightly.

A boy.

A sweet, boyish, cute and handsome face. Big pretty caramel eyes and a kind but slightly mischievous grin. Blond, shaggy curls.

He's perfect.

He's _human._

Fully. Entirely.

Jace.

My steps falter.

The memories come faster.

Him laughing with me.

Stealing chaste kisses.

Dancing with me in a field.

Giving me flowers.

Sneaking visits with me in the night.

Us meeting in the gardens.

Talking. For hours on end. About everything. About nothing.

He's proposing.

I fall this time, unable to stay upright on my feet. I find myself searching for him now, ignoring the demon that is growling to life in front of me, and I find him, standing with his blade held loosely in his grip, his mouth hanging open wide as his eyes stare at the monster.

The demon is fully here now, in this world, and he's charging, running right past me. To Jace.

He's picking him up, his dripping-flesh hands, scorched by years of fire, closing around Jace's throat.

Jace is not the same now. He's part monster, too.

But he has to be that boy somewhere, doesn't he? Isabelle said there was still a small part of humanity inside.

And however small that part is, I have to save it. I can't live without it.

I pick myself up and run as hard and fast as I can. I realize the small dagger will do nothing against the monster, and just as I make this connection, I heard Isabelle crying my name.

I turn towards her slightly as I run, and I catch the graceful blade she tosses at me without breaking my stride.

And then, like something else has taken over me, I climb up the back of the demon and stab the sword into its back with all of my might.

And I pray it's enough.

* * *

**I know, I know. Crazy, and y'all probably don't have a clue how the demon is there. I know it's really confusing the way I'm writing it, but I PROMISE. When this is all over, no question will be unanswered! (;**


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: Last update of the night. But tomorrow, I promise, I will have the rest of the story. Maybe two or three chapters later after this? I'm not sure, but I'll give y'all the ending tomorrow! Enjoy! (:**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

It's not enough.

It just enrages the demon.

It tosses me back, and I loose the grip on my blade, falling to the ground painfully. The demon rears back, and swings towards me, tossing Jace aside. He rolls gracefully to his feet, and I see him search for his own blade before the demon is blocking my view, coming for me now.

I scoot back as quickly as I can, but it's of no use. The demon is on me, its face burnt and charred and dripping old flesh. Its stench is ungodly in every sense, and I gag slightly as it reaches for me, ready to grab me and crush me like a toothpick.

But Jace is already there, swinging his blade down, severing the demon's hand, and it howls in frustration before grabbing Jace with the other. It lifts him up, hissing and growling, and I make out some words. Words like revenge, father, broken deal. And then I hear, very clearly, "You will pay for your father's mistakes."

"NO!"

I hear the scream, and I think it is from me. But it's not.

It's from Isabelle.

She's running towards the demon at full speed, a sword in her grasp, and she swings it with all her might, cutting a huge gash in the demon's leg. Black, thick and chunky gore pours from the wound, making the demon cry out and sling Jace across the ruins, his body slamming into one of the tilted pillars before dropping to the ground.

And then the demon has Isabelle in its grasp, and its squeezing her, squeezing her like a python squeezes its prey, and I heard the sickening snap of her spine being broken and her head drops forward, the light going out of her eyes.

The demon tosses her down like a discarded toy, its black eyes roaming, searching for its next victim.

Rage fills me, and I'm standing up, dashing for Isabelle's fallen blade, grabbing it and throwing myself into the air, swinging, arching the blade down so that it cuts through the demon's other hand. It drops to the ground as I do, and I regain my balance just before the demon swings at me with the stumps of its arms.

I fly back through the air before slamming into a pillar, the breath knocked out of me.

My vision bursts white and all I see are stars, real or a figment of my imagination, I'm not sure.

And then I'm in a different time, with a very human Jace, and we're sitting in the gardens behind my home, the smell of roses thick in the air. He's nervous tonight, wringing his hands, sweating a little, stuttering sometimes he speaks.

"What is it?" I inquire finally, smiling softly.

"What?" he shoots back, looking petrified.

"Why are you acting as if something horrible is about to happen?" I prod gently, scooting closer to him on the stone bench we sit atop.

"Nothing horrible is going to happen," he murmurs, looking down at his hands, before shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. And then he's looking over at me, sliding off the bench, going to one knee in front of me. He says, "Something wonderful."

I'm back to the present now, my breath coming back into my lungs, and I sit myself up, turning to see the demon throw two of the men I don't know into the fire. They scream in agony, their bodies twisting as they are consumed with flame.

I feel sick but I force it away.

Instead, I somehow find Jace. He is sitting, stunned, a few yards away, watching as his associates are burned alive. And then his eyes meet mine, like our gazes are magnets, and I mouth to him, "Distract it."

And he nods slightly, jumping to his feet, and rushing the demon. I feel my heart constrict in fear—fear that he will get hurt, as insane as that sounds—and I find my blade just as Jace's blade finds purchase in the demon's foot.

What do I need to do? I ask the voices. "What do I need to hit to kill it?" I ask aloud.

They don't answer at first, because they are stunned and their plan has been foiled.

"TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" I scream.

_Its heart. Hit its heart. And then say the words we tell you._

So I run, and I climb up its back once again as it tries desperately to squash Jace. And then it's trying to throw me off at the same time, but it's too late. Because I've already climbed over its shoulder, and I pull the blade back and sink it in as viciously as I can.

_May God damn you back to Hell and relinquish the holds you have on this world._

So I say it. I scream it. I scream it again and again, and the demon collapses underneath me, falling to the ground and screeching out in pain as its body begins to dissipate.

Its skin begins to sizzle, burning me, and I cry out. I panic, and I can't move.

But then Jace's hands are grabbing the back of my dress, hoisting me off the monster as it sizzles and turns to a pool of black that seeps down into the earth, back down to Hell.

And then it's gone, and Jace and I are all that's left alive.

I'm resting against his chest as we catch our breath through quick pants, but I'm pulling myself away from him as quickly as I can to meet his eyes.

His face is blank. Astonished. His eyes wide, his lips parted.

We both must look the same way as we stare at each other, at what's just happened.

And then Jace opens his mouth wider, as if to speak, but something happens.

His neck jerks back violently, his body falling backwards and arching, shuddering. I scream in horror, crawling over to him swiftly, desperately, and his eyes are rolled back into his head, his body twitching and shaking.

"Jace," I whisper, reaching out to touch him, but someone else's hands are in the way—dark, tanned hands spotted with dirt. I look up, find Jordan's kind eyes, and I part my lips, ready to yell at him, to demand he tell me what's happening.

But he's already explaining.

"Don't touch him, Clary. He's changing back."

"Changing back?" I repeat dumbly, my eyes going back to Jace, just as he seizes horribly, his limbs stiff and jerky.

"To a human. The demon's holds have been relinquished—all of his holds, Clary."

I barely understand. I'm too busy watching, watching as the unnatural sheen of gold drains from Jace's curls, turning them back to a healthy, subtle shimmery blond, as his skin becomes less radiant, still golden toned and pretty but more real. He changes before me, yet not really. He's still gorgeous. Still handsome and everything appealing. But he's _human_. No longer unnatural.

No longer a monster.

And it happens right before my very eyes.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: I'm sorry it took so long! Yikes! Um, I thought I'd be able to finish up tonight, but I'm just not going to be able to AND get a good night's sleep. I'm sorry to be such a liar! Ugh! But I'll get it done this week! PROMISE!**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jace is still.

He has been for two minutes now. I've counted the seconds.

I'm starting to get nervous, and I look to Jordan desperately. He simply nods and says what he has said ten times in a row now, "He'll be fine."

I need to distract myself. And I need answers. So I ask, "Where have you been?"  
Jordan looks at me for a long time with a cryptic expression before sighing, and saying, "When you were young, I did research on you and your family. Through years and years of work, I found out the truth—that you and Jace had been in love, that you trusted that love so much that you made it the center of everything. You thought that Jace would never be able to kill you, so you convinced your family to make the spell bound by your life, that the only way his siblings were to be released be by your death. Of course, this information that I learned was valuable. And you knew, even as young as you were, that the life you were living then was the important one. You used to tell me that 'the voices are coming.' You said it every night until they did come. And they tried to repress everything I'd told you—that you'd loved Jace and he'd loved you."

"Why?" I whisper, finding the voices quiet inside my head now.

Defeated.

"They didn't want you to know because it could have messed up everything. They wanted you to kill yourself, and therefore kill Jace and his siblings, too, so that they would never hurt the world. But they feared that if you loved him, you wouldn't be able to do it."

"So…you were the one that told me the truth when I was little?" I ask him.

"Yes."

"And you faked your death?"

"I had to. We knew the voices were coming, and Jace, too, for that matter. I couldn't risk being killed by him and the voices taking you over, too. You would have died, and it would have been an unnecessary sacrifice."  
"How, though? What just happened?" I ask, my mind whirling.

"The demon must have been attached to Jocelyn. She was a famous dabbler in dark arts. He probably possessed her, possessed her to come here, where so much power from your family lies. He used Jocelyn's body to open up the portal, and let him free. And then, when you killed the demon, it released his hold on Jace. Your family would not have wanted you to do this, as it would have been too risky. If you couldn't have killed the demon, it would have unleashed horrible terror on the world. It was too big of a chance to take."

I listen to the voices as they whisper their apologies in my head, and I am, strangely, unhurt. I feel their sincerity, their desperation for the world to be safe, for them to be released and for me to be released, as well, for everything to become natural again. For people to live and die as it is meant to be.

"It's okay," I whisper.

"What?" Jordan asks.

"Nothing," I reply quickly, looking back down at Jace. He is deathly still. "Why didn't he remember—Jace, I mean."

"He didn't want to remember, Clary. It would have held him back. And his siblings encouraged him to forget. He can speak with them through certain magic's, and they helped him forget. And time helped him, too. It's been centuries since you were in love."

"What happened to me, after you faked your death?" I ask slowly.

"I'm not sure. When your family took over your mind like they did, it made you go insane, and I lost track of you in various foster homes. I've been tracking you, and I found that you'd been sent to a mental institution. But when I got there, Jace had already taken you. So I had to really hurry to find you."

"This is crazy," I say, looking back down at Jace. And then I think back, over everything, and I have more questions again. "Why did Jace become a monster like this? If he loved me, why'd he do this?"

"Search your memories, Clary, and find out."

So I do.

I go into the deep caverns of my mind, and the voices let the walls they've built fall down completely. They let me see for the first time in years, and I'm immersed in the past.

* * *

_I run to the barn as quickly as I can._

_ But it's too late._

_ I know because I've seen the carnage of his children in the town. I know when I run inside, and see John, standing in front of a swirling portal with a look of awe on his face. He's too far gone._

_ "John," I gasp, out of breath, horrified. _

_ He turns to me, his eyes wide and manic. "Cassia, you've come to see. You've come to see how beautiful it is, haven't you?"_

_ "John, why have you done this?" I demand, my voice hopeless and heartbroken. I'm drowning in my own sorrow and horror. The world is burning around me, collapsing._

_ "Can't you see, Cassia? I've given my children a gift! They will never die—they will never lose each other, as I've lost my wife. They will never feel such pain," John whispers, his eyes bright._

_ "You've made them into monsters. Can't you see what they have done?" I demand, motioning around us, to the screams I still hear ringing in my ears. "The village—it's burning."_

_ "They will live forever," John continues to speak, as if I've not said anything at all. "And now I must hold up my end of the bargain. I must let him out."_

_ "No!" I cry. "John, listen to me! You don't have to do anything. Jace hasn't Turned yet. The bargain isn't complete. You don't have to—"_

_ "The bargain was for the exlir," John mumurs, pointing at the glass tube filled with swirling gold liquid that shines as bright as the sun. Three of the four viles are empty. _

_ One left. _

_ "Now, I must hold up my end, Cassia," John says, nodding to himself, moving towards the table—the table filled with burnt petals and decomposing animal carcasses, the ingredients he needs to free the demon._

_ The portal is growing brighter, the demon beyond realizing how close he is to freedom. How close he is to ripping this world apart even further. To kill and destroy._

_ I can't have anything else be destroyed. Not so long as I breathe._

_ "John, please," I beg. "Don't make me do this! Don't make me take your life!"_

_ John is at the table now, mixing the powders that will seal his fate. He's shaking slightly, murmuring under his breath. Speaking in Latin, in dark magic. _

_ The portal's getting brighter, my heart pumping faster._

_ I feel hot tears streaking down my face, tears I hadn't even realized I'd been crying. "John," I say, but it's just a hopeless word now, devoid of any passion because I know he is too far gone. His insanity has grown into a monster, a monster I cannot fight with words._

_ It's my fault, for not seeing, for not seeing how far he was slipping._

_ Now, I must end him. _

_ To save everyone else._

_ I grab my sword, the blade sliding out of its sheath with a hiss, and I approach him. His back is turned to me, trusting me. He doesn't see me as a threat. He doesn't think the little girl who called him Uncle for most of her life was going to kill him now._

_ "Can't you see?" he asks suddenly, turning towards the portal, the flames glowing in his crazed eyes. _

_ He talks more, more nonsense, and I move closer to him, closer and closer until I close my eyes and draw the blade upright. _

God forgive me_._

_ And then the blade is slamming home, right through his heart. His eyes go wide, his face slack in confusion—how could I have just killed him, after all—and then he's dead, crumbling down like ashes._

_ The portal goes dark._

_ And the world seems quiet again._

_ But not normal._

_ Far from normal._

_ Far from right._

Will anything ever be right again?

_ I drop the blade coated in John's blood, and I stagger back, my stomach revolting. Just as I am about to be sick, I hear it._

_ A small whimper._

_ Like a child's almost._

_ But it's not a child, I know even before I turn and see Jace, his eyes wide and filled with tears as he stares at his father's lifeless corpse._

_ And then his eyes find mine, a million different emotions flashing in those beautiful caramel orbs. Pain, anger, grief, horror, confusion, disbelief, and sickness._

_ I can see him falling apart before my very eyes. It starts with a crumple in his forehead and morphs until he is screaming silently, tears overflowing and falling down his cheeks._

_ "Why?" he rasps, doubling over as if I've punched him._

_ I've only ever seen him look like this once before._

_ When his mother died._

_ "I had to." The words are rushing out of my mouth, a desperate plea. "He was going to unleash horrible evil on the world. I…I had to, Jace, I'm so sorry—"_

_ He's on his knees now, his face hidden from me by his dirty-blond curls. But as soon as the pitiful apology leaves my lips, his head snaps back up. His eyes are not on mine, though. They are on the glass tube filled with demonic blood._

_ I know what he's going to do._

_ In his horror, he's going to make the biggest mistake of his life. He's going to change everything in the worst possible way._

_ And I'm crying out, "NO!"_

_ But he's already on his feet, as if in slow motion, reaching for the blood. And then he's looking at me, tears pouring down his cheeks, his eyes on fire. He says, in a whisper I have to strain to hear, "I hate you." _

_ And then he drinks the blood._

_ And nothing will ever be the same._


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: Thought I was only going to post one update, but I just had to write this one and put it up. So enjoy! I'll update more tomorrow! (;**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The day breaks, but the sky is gray and rainy.

I watch as the water falls from the window of Jace's room. He still sleeps soundly on the bed, where he's been lying motionless for the past two days.

If it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I might think he's dead. Even now, I fear the worst.

That he won't wake up.

_He'll wake up_.

I blink, shocked at hearing the voices. They have been deathly silent the last few days, ever since the truth came out.

"How do you know?" I ask them.

_We just do._

I roll my eyes at this. "Still being cryptic after all this?"

I think the voices might laugh. And then they say, _We'll be gone soon, Cassia. You've done well._

"Be gone?" I ask, frowning.

_Our time is done. Our job has been finished. We will leave you in peace._

"What about Jace's siblings?"

_They are still entrapped. They are still evil. The demon's holds were only relinquished on this earth—not in alternate dimensions._

"What about me?" I whisper.

_If you die a natural death—not of your own hand or of Jace's—you will die for good. You may now live a long and normal life, at which the end you will pass on and stay gone. The spell only protected you from a self-inflicted or supernatural death._

I laugh slightly, shaking my head, and then I glance back at Jace and his steady breathing. It's calming, pacing my breaths with his. "What about Jace?"

_He will age like a normal mortal, as well, and die when his time comes._

I smile at the thought, and a sudden memory shoots through my mind, unhindered and breathtakingly clear.

_"Will you marry me?" Jace asks, on one knee. "Be my wife and live with me, and have a happy life with me? Grow old with me, Cassia."_

_ I don't even have to think about it._

_ I just say, "Of course."_

I blink, a jolt running down my spine at the memory, and I feel tears in my eyes as I find Jace, still sleeping in his bed.

I get up and move over towards him, flipping through my now free memories like a picture book.

Laughing with him, loving him with my whole heart, dancing with him, running from him playfully, fending off his always-present advances.

I sit on the edge of Jace's bed, half in the present and half in the past as I reach for his hand. It's warm and strong—no longer feverish. Just a normal human hand. It's so comforting and familiar that I want to cry even harder.

But I don't.

I just bring his hand up to my lips and kiss it, and inhale his old scent—still spicy but less intense. Real.

"Come back to me," I whisper against his knuckles. "Be with me again. So we can grow old together—like we should have the first time."

He doesn't move. Doesn't twitch or shudder.

He just keeps sleeping, and I sigh.

But I'm not discouraged anymore.

I'm just patient.

* * *

Patience wanes.

It's been five days now, and I haven't left Jace's side.

Jordan comes in to bring me food and clothes. He asks me if I have any questions, and I'm so consumed with Jace, that I tell him no each time, even though I'm sure I do have more questions.

I just can't think about that right now.

* * *

"Cas?"

I'm dreaming. Dreaming of Jace and olden days when things were simple and we were just children.

But something is off.

The dream isn't right.

Because Jace keeps repeating my name, and it doesn't make sense.

"Cas?"

I jolt awake, flying into an upright position. The room is dark, only lit by a few flickering candles. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes, and I find that I've fallen asleep sitting straight up beside Jace's bed.

Jace.

My eyes immediately find him, and my eyes find _his_, open and wide and a beautiful brandy, caramel color.

Human eyes.

My mouth opens, a small intake of breath sounding, but I can't seem to find the words. I can only find tears, and they run hot over my cheeks as I watch him sit up gingerly, his face so breathtakingly real and normal and yet stunningly beautiful.

"Cas," he says, his voice a little hoarse as he stares at me.

It's too much, and I'm suddenly lunging at him, across the bed, kissing him. I've surprised him, I know, by the stiffness of his lips, but it only lasts a moment before his body remembers and takes over for him.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me firmly against him, and I'm being flipped underneath his heavy body.

Our hands are greedy and frantic, our lips desperate and hot against each other's. I can't get enough, and neither can he. We are trying to catch up on centuries of missed time.

I'm yanking his shirt off, and he's pulling the opens of mine open just as swiftly. When our bare skin touches, we both groan, but there's no relief to be found yet.

My legs wrap around his waist, and he rocks his hips against mine just like I know he will. And this only fuels the fire raging between us.

My hands tangle into his curls as his lips detach harshly from mine and run hungrily over my chin and jaw. I'm shaking, pressing up into him shamelessly, arching my back and moaning his name.

I want him to just take me and not waste any more time. I want to be with him _now_ because it's been so long, and I don't think I'll be comforted until I feel him inside me, moving in and out. I don't think I'll believe this is real until that moment.

But he won't have it.

He's too busy exploring me with his lips, which are now trailing down my neck and…

Then he stops.

Stiffens.

Turns to stone.

"What…what's wrong?" I gasp into his hair.

He pulls back from me, a frown creasing his beautiful face, and his fingers reach, brushing along the scar he's left with his teeth a week before. He looks pained, horrified, and I realize that _this_ will have to wait. That he will need some answers first. Some comfort.

So I make my legs relax, let my body ease back into the bed, and make my fingers release the tight hold in his hair. I smooth my hands down his back carefully, waiting for him. Waiting to see what he needs first.

And then his eyes meet mine, so big and real and perfect, and he says, rather simply, "Hey."


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. This is going to be my only update for the day, but tomorrow, I'll give y'all the final chapter. So enjoy! (:**

* * *

Chapter Forty

"Um, hey," I reply, slightly awkwardly, because he's still above me, shirtless, and my blouse is hanging open, buttons missing, where he'd gotten so impatient to undo them.

He smirks a little, and that look is familiar—a look I've seen many centuries ago and only days ago, too. Both old and new. But the eyes…his eyes are softer, less cruel, though the smirk is still mischievous. Not devious, though. Just cute enough to get my heart beating too quickly.

He's rolling off of me now, sitting up, and I do the same, trying to hold my shirt together with a faint blush. "Uh, sorry."

"For what?" he asks.

"For jumping you like that," I reply, fiddling with one of the remaining buttons on my shirt for something to do.

"I didn't mind."

I peep over at him, see his smirk returning, and I smile back, shaking my head a little ruefully. "How do you feel?"

"Shitty," he replies, rubbing at his eye.

"Can I get you something?" I go to stand, fully expecting a request for water or food, but he instead grabs my hand, keeping me from going anywhere.

"No. Just stay here. With me." He doesn't quite meet my eyes as he says this, and I remember how uncomfortable he used to be with these kinds of things—with ever feeling vulnerable, ever feeling like he needed me. He used to pretend he didn't need me, back when we were just children practically, but I always knew he did. And I needed him and we both knew it. And it was perfect.

Until everything was shattered.

"Okay," I say calmly, off-handedly almost because this is the way to handle him. I sink back down into the bed beside him.

We are quiet for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say.

The voices are quiet, too, but they are listening. Curious.

"Do you…do you remember things?" I inquire gently.

Jace's eyes flutter shut, and he exhales. "Everything. Every ungodly detail." His eyes open again and stare down at his face-up palms blankly. "I've killed people."

A flash of Valentine's lifeless body zings through my mind, and I try to push it away, before Jace can see the fear on my face. "You didn't do it yourself."

"It was my hands that did it."

"It was the demonic side, Jace. Not you."

He blinks and turns his head so our eyes meet. He's tortured, years of witnessed violence and evil swimming in his beautiful brandy colored irises. "I don't know. It was like…it was like I was there, and I knew what I was doing. I just didn't know _why_ I was doing it. It was like…there were two parts of me…but not, at the same time. We were one, and I was weak…and sometimes…sometimes I'd disappear. I'd just…loose track of myself." He inhales deeply and looks away from me quickly.

I reach for him, letting my hand fall between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles there, the same thing I always did when he was upset.

The memories are coming back to me easier and easier now, as if they'd never been gone, as if the years had never passed between us.

At least, that is how it feels to me.

I can take one look at Jace and his sickened expression and know that the years have been long and terrible for him, ticking by at a horribly slow pace.

I imagine what he feels like, trapped inside his own body, unable to truly control his actions, unable to break free. Loosing track of himself, his true self.

It's a nightmare that I don't fully understand. I've had my own share mental issues, of course, but this is entirely new. I have no idea what to do but keep rubbing at his back.

"You're here now," I say.

"Yeah, but I don't even know…I don't even know what I am. _Who_ I am."

"I'll remind you."

At this, he looks over at me, shock flashing across his features. "You remember?"

"I'm starting to." I scoot closer to him, grabbing one of his hands between mine. "In pieces, when I think about things hard enough."

"When did this start?"

"When the voices stopped trying to hide them—"

"Voices? What? They were hiding stuff from you?"

I smile a little, inhaling deeply, realizing how much he doesn't know, how much I haven't told him. So I begin the story, leaving no detail left out. I'm completely honest with him, for once unafraid of him.

It's a strange feeling to be sitting here, talking like this to the boy that once terrified me. But it's not the same boy. There are subtle differences that set me completely at ease.

When I'm done, Jace blinks, lets everything sink in, and then sighs heavily. "Everything is so messed up."  
I nod in agreement.

Then he glances over at me, a small smile tilting his lips playfully. He leans towards me, his mouth close to mine. "Are those crazy-old creepy-ass family members of yours talking to you now?"

I shake my head, feeling my own smile blooming at his closeness.

The air between us crackles.

"No? Are they listening to what's happening?" he inquires, kissing me—a tempting little brush of his lips against mine.

"Yes," I breathe, already loosing myself at his closeness.

He kisses me again. And again—light little pecks that are driving me crazy. But I refuse to move for him. This part of our relationship remains the same—one never wanting to give into the other first.

"Can you tell them to go away for a little while?" he murmurs against my mouth, slowly lowering back down onto the bed.

"Now, why would I want to do that?" I ask with a small grin.

"Because I don't exactly feel right about having your family members present for what I'm about to do," he replies with that devilish little smirk.

"What are you planning on doing?" I shoot back innocently.

He kisses me again, keeping his lips against mine, as he says, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

I shove at his face a little because it's ridiculous what he's saying. Corny. But I still feel the flutter in my chest, and I still let him bow his head and trail warm kisses down my stomach.

And I shut my eyes and savor this feeling, of him being so close. Of things feeling the same as they used. Of feeling this happiness that I didn't even know I'd lost.


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY! I have had the worst ever stomach virus, and I just felt like going to classes today and getting on my computer. Let me repeat: I AM SO SORRY! Ugh. So, to make it up to y'all, I made this chapter super long, longer than my usual chapters. AND... there will be one more chapter after this. This whole chapter right here is a flashback, and the next chapter will be the present-and the ending! Thank y'all for your patience and your kind words!**

* * *

Chapter Forty-One

_Emerald green grass blows gently with the wind, the sky as blue as the ocean and as clear as glass. I smile into the golden sunshine, feeling the rays kiss my skin softly. It's not too hot, not too cold. It's the perfect time of spring where everything is just right._

_ I lounge back on my elbows, listening to the water crash against the cliff. My home stands grand and majestic behind me, but I don't stare at it. I stare out into the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky. _

_ Endless possibilities._

_ Once Jace and I are married, there's nowhere we can't go. Nowhere we can't see. _

_ I cannot wait for this, for beauty and culture. For Jace finally being mine. I would stay here with him for the rest of my days, live like a dog in a shack, as long as we were together. The fact that he wants to travel the world just as much as I do is an unexpected addition to the wonderful life I have dreamed up for us._

_ I inhale the sweet air deeply, feeling the stirrings of slight nerves in my stomach. Today's the day we tell my family our plans. Today's the day everything is going to change and a war will be started._

_ My family does not take kindly to my ideas of independence from them. They prefer I stay here, at the castle, for the rest of my days. Because this is what are family does. Because we are not the same as everyone else. We are different._

_ And I am different, even amongst of a family of different._

_ I sigh slightly and sit up, glancing at the ocean with a frown now. _

_ I've let my thoughts get away from me, and my good mood is rapidly vanishing._

* * *

_Jace does not show up._

_ I think he must have panicked and decided facing my family of witches was not an enjoyable pastime for the evening. _

_ Without him, I don't say a word to my family at dinner. I won't tell them until Jace is with me. He, traditionally, should be the one asking my father for my hand in marriage first, regardless. _

_ As usual, Jace has done everything out of order._

_ As I lay in my bed, though, I hear a slight rap against my window, and I smile in relieved delight before running over and prying the glass open. A startlingly cold breeze brushes through the room like a whisper, making the candles behind me flicker. I shiver and lean outwards into the night, frowning a bit as I see no glimpse of blond hair in sight._

_ "Jace?" I whisper into the shadows. The moon is full tonight, and it shines brightly on the hills of tall, wavering grass. The air smells damp, but for once, there is no rain. It is blissfully quiet and peaceful._

_ "My lady," comes a drawling, playful voice that makes me jump with fright at its suddenness._

_ I place a hand on my chest, feeling my heart pound, and I blink at the sight of Jace leaning into my window with a devilish smile. His blond hair is a mess around his beautiful face, as if he's been running. _

_ "You gave me a start," I murmur, narrowing my eyes at him._

_ "That was the point, my darling," Jace replies. He holds his hand out to me, beckoning to me while still smirking._

_ I tilt my chin up at him a bit, pretending to be offended and ignoring his outstretched palm. "I believe that I shall retire early tonight. I'm not in the mood for running across the moors with you."  
_

_"My love," he protests, and I smile for he is always calling me a new name of endearment, as a joke of sorts. "You would deny me your company after I have traipsed across the world for you?"  
_

_I sigh loudly. "I did not ask you to traipse across the world for me."_

_ "Perhaps, but I did nonetheless."  
_

_"Is it my fault you are foolish enough to tire yourself for a woman that has not asked you for your company?"  
_

_"You wound me, my heart," he says, aghast._

_ I stare at him a moment longer before rolling my eyes. "You are the strangest boy I have ever met."  
_

_"Which is why you fancy me so," he returns, his mouth curling up into a half smile. _

_ "You assume I fancy you? Perhaps I am merely amused by your oddity," I sniff, drifting closer to him._

_ "My beautiful Cassia, my dear, my world, you are the cruelest woman," he sighs dramatically, "to a man whom loves you so."_

_ I let my hand fall into his, and his rough fingers weave into mine. He smiles again, his eyes sparkling as he helps me out of my window and into the cool, endless night._

_ "I only jest," I tell him, a bit more serious._

_ Jace smiles down at me, letting the hand not intertwined with mine come up to brush across my cheek. His eyes turn intense, all traces of playfulness vanishing like smoke. _

_My breathing falters slightly at his unwavering gaze._

_He is unlike any boy or man I've ever laid eyes upon, and he will be the only boy I ever love. I can feel this in my bones. There is something about him that completely fascinates me, and no one will ever be able to hold my interest as he does._

_ He bends down to kiss me, but I dance out of his way, smiling. "No, no. I do not believe such behavior is appropriate."_

_ He watches me run away from him with a predatory look shining in his eyes as a slow smile spreads across his face. "Oh?"  
I nod primly, grabbing my dress up in my hands and swishing it around as I marched away from him. I turn my back to him and I smile when I head the grass rustle as he begins to chase. _

_I run down the hills in a most un-lady like manner. I fill my lungs with the sweet smell of night. The air is so cool that it burns my throat, but I hardly notice this. I am much too preoccupied with evading Jace. I know he can catch me easily if he so pleases, but he keeps a small gap between us we run further and further away from my estate. I know that Jace likes to chase, and in turn, I like the feeling of him chasing me._

_ It's a beautiful harmony._

_ "Ah!" I scream as Jace's arms wrap around my waist and pull me to the ground. We land in a tangle, and I swat at him uselessly as he rolls atop me._

_ The navy blue star is sprinkled with brightly burning stars behind Jace's head as he towers over me. His bright, brandy eyes are like crystals as he stares down at me. We are both breathing hard, but my breathing now has little to do with my exertion._

_ Jace leans down to kiss me. His lips sear into mine with fire that burns deliciously. I had never been kissed until I had met Jace, and I have no desire to be kissed by anyone but him. His kisses are burning, sweet, fierce, and they never cease to amaze me. Kissing Jace is new every time. _

_It feels like I can never get enough of it. _

_ My fingers twine into his hair as his lips part mine and his hot breath rushes into my mouth. My eyes flutter shut, and I hold him as close to me as I can. _

_It's still not close enough. _

_ His mouth moves against mine over and over again, never breaking contact, and I feel dizzy. My lungs start to burn, and just when I think I will have to break away, Jace is the one that severs our connection by pulling back._

_ I suck air in desperately but open my eyes to look at him pleadingly, silently telling him to continue. He is staring at me with those intent, focused eyes that burn just as brightly as the stars behind him. His lips that are parted and swollen suddenly twitch up into one of my favorite smiles, and then he leans down to press kisses over my cheek, my jaw, my neck. _

_ I am making strange little gasping sounds as my fingers start digging into his soft hair. My body is on fire. Everything feels wild. This kiss feels different than ones we have shared before. It feels more passionate, and I feel intoxicated by it._

_ Jace's lips graze down my neck over my collarbone and lower still. This is very unfamiliar territory, but I cannot find the words to stop this new exploration. He kisses down to the neckline of my gown, and my breathing becomes erratic. Jace's hands ran up my sides, squeezing gently as they go._

_ My head tilts back into the ground as my body arches upwards, making contact with his. Jace makes a sharp, growling sound that makes my blood burn, and he rocks his hips down against mine, slamming them into the ground and pressing against me. His mouth is at my ear, and his breath is hot as he says, "You have no idea how much I desire you."_

_ I shiver a little, but my mind is snapped back into reason. "As I desire you, but we cannot always give into desire." I force my fingers to release their tight hold on Jace's hair, and I trail my hands down his neck gently, in an effort to calm him. _

_ "Why?" he whispers, his lips brushing over mine._

_ "You very well know why," I murmur ruefully, kissing him chastely._

_ "Because we are not wed?"_

_ I nod._

_ "Then marry me," he replies simply, his lips trailing over my cheek hotly._

_ "I have already agreed to that. In fact, I remember us deciding on telling my family today," I say calmly, but the earlier anger I felt at his absence has returned. _

_ "Was that today?" he asks, playing at ignorance._

_ "You know very well that is was today."_

_ Jace, sensing my sudden change in mood, doesn't try to kiss me anymore but pulls away so that our eyes can meet. He sighs. "I owe you an apology."  
_

_"Yes, you do, and I'm ready to hear it," I say primly._

_ Jace gives me a little look with a smirk, but then sighs again and says, "I apologize."  
_

_"Why didn't you come? Are you afraid?"_

_ "Yes, but not of your family—of their hold over you. If they say that you can't marry me, that you can't leave with me and explore the world as we want, you won't do any of those things."  
_

_I smooth my hands down his chest, watching their progress. "I love you, Jace. I will do anything to be with you, even if it means defying my family."_

_ There's a long moment of silence, drawn out and still, before Jace says, "Truly?"  
_

_I meet his eyes, letting the weight and truth of my word shine through them. "Yes."_

_ His forehead falls against mine, his eyes burning softly like candlelight. "Then let us go now."_

_ I freeze. "Pardon?"_

_ "Let us go now—run away. We can get Father Gregory to marry us now. I know he will. He admires us both. And then, we can steal my father's horse and carriage—he never uses it after Mother's death—and we can…we can just go!" Jace's voice is rising in fervor with each word, ending in an almost shout that echoes slightly in the night._

_ I'm still beneath him, both shocked and intrigued by this idea. But my sensible side wins out and I say, "Jace, we can't be foolish—"_

_ "What's foolish about it? This is our chance, Cassia." He grabs my face with his hands, engulfing my cheeks with rough warmth. "This is our chance to do what we please instead of what our parents please. It is perfect, but I feel as if we don't do this now, we may never. My father is getting worse in his mind, and if I see him digress anymore, I won't be able to leave him. And if your family gets wind of our plans, they might lock you in the dungeon. We should just leave now—so we can be free."_

_ I don't speak for a moment, but deep down, I've already made up my mind. There really was no choice to begin with because he's right. He's right about it all, and I feel the urgency, too, the sense that if we don't soon leave, we'll be here forever._

_ So I smile up at him and say, "Very well," because there's nothing else to say._

_ And he smiles back. "I'll come for you later tonight. Get your things together."_

_ "Why can we not just leave now?"_

_ Jace hesitates, winces a bit, but comes out with the truth and says, "I must see my father once more before we go. He's been acting more strangely than usual over the last few days. And I must see my siblings, as well. I won't tell them of our plans, I just—"_

_ I place my fingers on his lips to quiet him. "You do not need to explain yourself to me, Jace. Do whatever you must. Just hurry back. I'll be ready."_

_ He smiles again, a smile that lights up his whole face, lights up mine, and everything around us, and we kiss once more before parting._

_ This is our last moment of peace before our world comes to an end._


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: THIS IS IT! Oh my goodness gracious! I wrote this whole thing in less than a month, which is a new record for me, and I know it's pretty bad-bad editing and so forth-but y'all have been so kind and precious and just AMAZING that I want to cry! Seriously! Y'all are the best and have encouraged me to really pursue writing as a career! Thank, y'all! And if there are any questions that I don't have answered by the end of this chapter, ask me! I'll answer them, of course, and if it's applicable, I'll write an outtake just to answer the question! I won't be doing any outtakes for this story really soon because quite honestly, I'm burnt out on this story for the moment. BUT I will be doing outtakes sometime before this year is up.  
**

**Again, thank y'all for the wonderful, AMAZING support! Y'all are the best EVER! Love, love, love!**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Two

Jace trembles against me still, our pants filling the thick air around us. I'm shaking, as well, my body humming.

Jace lifts his head and looks down on me once we've regained some form of control over our bodies. He smiles languidly, and I smile back, completely and utterly satisfied. He kisses my sweat-soaked forehead before rolling off of me, and we lay shoulder-to-shoulder as we try to catch our breath.

"You okay?" he inquires a moment later.

He asks, I know, because he got a little rough with me, and I will most likely have bruises tomorrow. But at the moment, I don't care.

I just nod because I don't trust my voice yet.

A few minutes pass, both of us regaining some sense, and then, almost begrudgingly, I ask, "What are going to do?"

Jace, who has wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side, stiffens a bit. "What do you mean?"

I turn my head, resting my chin on his chest. Our eyes meet. "About your siblings? They're still locked up—and evil."

Jace inhales deeply, letting his head drop back onto his pillow. His eyes stare upwards blankly. "Well, I'm certainly not going to kill you just to bust them out and have them reek havoc."

"But I know you miss them and love them. You're really just going to let them stay—"

"The way I see it," Jace murmurs, looking at me again. "Is that they made their choice. They decided to take that demon blood—and they knew what it'd do to them. Celine told me Father had listed the side effects. They just didn't care. And until we can maybe find some way to undo the effects of the demon blood _and_ bust them out of their prison without killing you—I'm content just to let them sit and stew a while longer."

I widen my eyes a bit but nod. I won't argue with him on any of the points. And perhaps one day, we can find a way to release his siblings—from everything, from the prison and their demonic tendencies.

"Is Isabelle…is Isabelle dead?" Jace inquires suddenly, frowning.

I nod.

"And Jocelyn?"

"Jordan told me that she had been possessed by the demon, that it had conned her into coming to the spot where so much magic had been practiced—the spot where we first condemned your siblings—and then it made her sacrifice herself and use a certain spell to unleash it."

Jace sighs and shakes his head. "I can't say I mourn her death."

"I'm surprised you aren't," I say, and it comes out a little more bitterly than I expect.

Jace turns his head and smirks at me a little. "I remember being with her only because she had red hair, like you. Even my demonic side was drawn to her because of it. But she was a poor substitute."

I give him a flat look. "As usual, I'm unmoved by your poor attempts at romantic sayings."

Jace simply scoffs. "I haven't made any attempts yet." He glances over at me, a devilish smirk flashing on his lips. "You'd be moved if I did."

I laugh at his ridiculousness.

But he quickly turns serious again, his search for answers continuing. "Jordan. Is he still here?"

I nod again.

"Is anyone else alive besides us three, then?"

I sigh heavily. "Well, there were a few of the men and women you Turned. They left, though, as soon as the demon showed its face, practically."

"Are they still…like I was? Even now that I'm human again?"

I nod. "It appears so."

"Great." Jace rubs his hands down his face tiredly and leaves them there. "I've unleashed some kind of plague on the world. I guess we'll have to hunt them all down and kill them or something. I'm not even sure what we should do with them—"

As he talks, I carefully roll on top of him. Gently, I pry his hands away from his face and hold them above his head. "Let's not talk about those things right now. Everything will work out—eventually."

Jace stares at me with a strange, almost distant expression that I can't decipher for the longest time, until, slowly, a smile dawns across his face—a beautiful, genuine, _human_ smile. "All right."

I lean my face down towards his. "We get to live a normal, human, happy life together now. We can live and die together, grow old together. Just like we wanted."

"But never got," Jace murmurs, his eyes drifting towards my lips.

"We have it now."

At this, Jace's eyes flicker back to mine. Our gazes meet, and my breath is stolen from me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up and softening it until I can no longer hold my head up and instead rest my forehead against his. "We have it now," he repeats.

And then we kiss, and the moment is so beautiful that it doesn't feel real.

None of this feels real.

And maybe…

Maybe it isn't real.

THE END

* * *

**OKAY! That's it! Let me know what y'all think. **

**On an unrelated note to this story, I will soon be posting a NEW story. Mortal Instruments fanfic. Clary/Jace pairing. But Jace will not be like this Jace AT ALL. He'll probably be really unique to any Jace, actually. And it'll be more of a traditional horror story. Still supernatural, but set in a haunted house and all that jazz! It'll be called Imprints! Watch for it!**

**And thank y'all again. Y'all are FABULOUS-O! (:**


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